The Perfect Storm
by Shadpup
Summary: An interview with a potential witness and a looming snowstorm collide violently, causing unforeseen consequences for the case and the team.
1. Chapter 1

_Here we go folks I have a brand new story for you. This is my oldest one that has been begging me to pay attention to it and finish it. I finally listened. This one takes place in season 3 somewhere after my one story 'When Darkness Falls' in my story timeline. Now time for the normal disclaimers. I don't own Criminal Minds or their characters, I just play with them. I'm also not a shipper so there will be no budding relationships between the characters ever so please don't ask for it. Now go and I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

"What can you tell me about Martha Hanson?" Emily asked Deputy Bennett after they had been on the road for a little while. Outside the car large, fluffy snowflakes lazily drifted down from the cloud choked sky.

"Not much to tell," he answered, eyes glued to the road on the lookout for the patches where the snow was beginning to stick to the pavement. "Her husband Lon died a few years ago and she's been living out here by herself. They were married for forty years."

"Any children?"

He shook his head. "None. Heard they tried for years but I guess it wasn't in cards." He reached over and turned on the defroster.

Emily pulled her wool coat tighter around her body when the heat she had been basking in was redirected to the windshield. "Were they well liked?" she asked, wishing she had brought thicker gloves.

"Hard to say." He shrugged and flipped on the wipers. "They mostly kept to themselves. Only came into town once a week to get groceries but when they did they were always real friendly."

She nodded and gazed out the window. The snowflakes had grown smaller and were now falling at a greater frequency. Deputy Bennett slowed the cruiser and turned off the back road onto a dirt track that you wouldn't have known it existed if it wasn't for the dented and crooked mailbox marking the entrance. They bounced in and out of muddy potholes for the next mile, the car's suspension protesting the entire way. After wallowing through a particularly deep rut, they pulled into a clearing.

Set in the center of a field of overgrown grass was an old Victorian mansion. Its white paint was peeling and several of the windows on the second story were boarded up. There was a turret on one side and it had a wrap around porch. Off to one side were the remains of a garage that had collapsed around the rusted hulk of a car. An air of decay hung over the grounds.

Emily got out of the car, crossed her arms to stay warm, and studied the house with a critical eye. Her breath came out in white puffs and snow dusted her shoulders. "Are you sure Mrs. Hanson is even home? This place looks deserted."

"Oh, she's here," he said, leading the way to the porch steps. "Mrs. Hanson doesn't drive. She has her groceries delivered every week."

Emily hesitated, not liking how the porch groaned under his weight. When he didn't fall through she cautiously followed him up. While she peered through the frosted glass the deputy pounded his fist against the front door and shrugged apologetically. "She a little hard of hearing." He pounded again. "Mrs. Hanson?" he called out. "It's me, little Archie Bennett."

She arched an eyebrow. "Little?" she asked, looking at the strapping, six foot three deputy.

"I've known her since I was knee high to a grasshopper," he explained, giving her a cheeky grin. "She must be in back or upstairs. Let's go in."

She shrugged and gestured for him to go first. He knew her better than she did. The knob turned easily and they stepped into the vestibule where they knocked the snow from their boots and dusted off their coats. Deputy Bennett removed his hat. "Mrs. Hanson?" he called out again.

Silence echoed throughout the house. He scratched his head. "She has to be here. Why don't you check down here and I'll run upstairs and take a look."

"Okay," she said and headed for the large room on her left while he bounded up the stairs like a herd of elephants. Emily smiled to herself. _Oh, to be that young and eager again or maybe not. Got into too much trouble back then._

The first thing Emily noticed was that inside was a complete opposite of the outside. The room was immaculate. There was not an item out of place nor was there a speck of dust on any of the surfaces. It was sparsely furnished but what furniture that was there looked old yet comfortable. Along one wall was a large fireplace surrounded by built in bookcases. At the far end of the room was a set of sliding doors that probably let to the formal dining room.

As she crossed the space she called out, "Mrs. Hanson? My name is Emily Prentiss and I'm with the FBI. Deputy Bennett and I would like to speak with you."

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Emily froze in place. Someone or something was watching her; she could feel the eyes boring into her back. Slowly she turned scanning the room while her hand slid under her coat to come to a rest on the butt of her gun. No one was there and nothing seemed to be amiss but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was now off. It was a feeling she learned not to ignore early on in her CIA days.

A loud crashing noise directly above her made her jump, her eyes snapping to the ceiling. Pulling out her weapon Emily raced for the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. At the top she crouched, gun ready, eyes sweeping the landing, ears straining for any sounds besides her own heavy breathing. Treading quietly she made her way to the space she determined was located over the living room.

At the door Emily paused and peeked in. Deputy Bennett was sprawled face down in the center of the room. She leaned back against the wall, adjusted her grip on her gun, blew out a breath and plunged in. The room was empty except for the deputy. Emily knelt down and placed two fingers on his neck while keeping her eyes and weapon trained on the open door. A steady beat pulsed under her fingers.

"Thank god," she said in relief under her breath.

The creaking of floorboards captured her attention. With narrowed eyes Emily left the unconscious deputy where he was and crept back out on to the second floor landing. The whisper of a door closing drew her eyes to the room on the other side of the stairs. Cautiously Emily made her way over to it and stretched out her arm to grasp the doorknob.

The hairs on her neck stood on end and at the same time multiple alarms went off in her mind. _Danger,_ they screamed at her. Emily spun around but was a split second too slow to deflect the object hurtling at her head. It connected solidly, splitting her forehead open. Blood poured out of the wound half blinding her as it coursed down her face. Excruciating pain filled her head cutting off her ability to think. Emily lost control of her body. She stumbled back and her foot encountered nothing but thin air. Before she could comprehend what happened, she was tumbling down the stairs.

Emily's downhill momentum came to abrupt end when the back of her head and left shoulder slammed into the railing encompassing the small landing at the bottom of the stairs. There was a horrible wrenching sound and her shoulder was suddenly on fire. Emily lay there unable to move or cry out. Her mind, unable to handle the new influx of pain, shut down. The last thing Emily saw before blackness overtook her was a pair of feet descending the stairs.

* * *

The sense of something wrapping around her ankles brought Emily around. She tried to kick out but her body refused to respond. All she could do was to lie in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. She felt her body jerked sideways causing her shoulder to come into contact with the landing, sending a fresh wave of agony washing over her body. Another jerk pulled her down the few remaining steps to the main floor, her head bouncing painfully on each one.

As she was dragged Emily forced her eyes open and lazily watched as the blurry ceiling slid by. A squeaking captured her fleeting attention and she rolled her head to one side. But before she could get a glimpse of who had a hold of her she was through another door and bumping down another flight of stairs. Mercifully for Emily, she was unconscious by the time she reached the bottom.

* * *

A sharp pain jarred Emily back into the world of the living. Ignoring the fierce pounding in her head, she pried her eyes partly open. Blackness greeted her but it twisted and turned before morphing into a blurry shape that was crouched next to her and pawing at her clothing. She felt more than saw the gloves pulled from her nerveless fingers and paying no heed to her injured shoulder as her coat was ripped off her back. The cold of the room immediately sank into her bones and she shivered. She must have passed out at some point for the next thing she knew, she was propped up against a wall and something scratchy was being wound about her wrists.

"N…no," she slurred and feebly tried to fight back.

The blurred shape giggled and vanished from her diminished line of sight. Suddenly her arms were yanked painfully over her head. A harder tug wrenched her off the ground, and Emily struggled to get her feet under her but her body would not cooperate. Upward against the rough stone she was hauled until her feet barely touched the floor. Her rubbery legs could not support her weight and they buckled, leaving her dangling by her wrists. The stress on her shoulder quickly became too much for her to bear and she felt herself beginning to slip beneath the waves of oblivion. A bone-chilling scream filled the air. Emily wasn't sure if she had uttered it but at this point she didn't care.

* * *

Hotch was frowning at the murder board with such intensity that Reid was afraid it was going to burst into flames. When his phone rang he retreated to a safe distance and plopped down next to the fire extinguisher. The young agent thumbed it on and listened closely to the person on the other end.

"Who was it?" Hotch asked when Reid had hung up, eyes still glued to the pictures of the victims.

"That was JJ. She and Rossi are on their way back. Their leads were all dead ends. JJ also says the snow is really starting to come down."

"And Morgan?" Hotch asked.

"About to start his last interview."

Last night they had held a press conference to appeal to the general public for assistance. Throughout the morning they had shifted through hundreds of tips and had narrowed it down to six possible leads by mid afternoon. Hotch had divided them in half and sent Morgan, Rossi, and JJ to follow up on them while he, Prentiss and Reid would remain at the sheriff's office working on victimology. Later another plausible tip had come in so he had Prentiss and a deputy go and check it out.

Hotch turned around. "Have you heard from Prentiss?"

Reid shook his head. "No," he said, wondering if he should start to worry.

If it was even possible Hotch's frown deepened as he glanced at his watch. Prentiss and Deputy Bennett had been gone for over two hours. He pulled out his phone and dialed Emily's number. It rang six times before rolling over to voicemail. That in its self wasn't unusual when Prentiss was conducting a solo interview but something wasn't sitting right with him.

At that moment Sheriff Holmes strolled into the room with wearing a harried look. "Looks like we are about to get slammed with a major snowstorm," he announced to no one in particular.

Reid glanced out the window at the swirling flakes. "That bad?"

"Yes. Agent Hotchner, I would recommend you get your agents back here before they accidentally get stranded out in the middle of nowhere."

"I will but first, Sheriff, one of my agents is out with Deputy Bennett and I am having difficulty reaching her. Would you be able to contact him by radio?"

"Sure," he agreed and stepped out of the room to make the call.

Reid turned to his boss. "You think Emily is in trouble?"

Hotch shrugged. "I don't know. I just have a feeling."

A grim faced Sheriff returned a few minutes later. "I've been unable to raise Deputy Bennett."

Those words spurned Hotch into action. "We need to get out there," he said, snatching up his overcoat. "Reid, call JJ and have them pick up Morgan and meet us out at the Hanson's."

"On it," Reid said, already dialing.

"Agent Hotchner," Sheriff Holmes spoke up. "I'm afraid I don't have any men I can spare to send along with you. This storm is going to have my forces spread pretty thin."

"I completely understand. The citizens of this town are your highest priority. My team will be fine." With a curt nod, Hotch raced out into the snow with his phone pressed tightly to his ear getting detailed directions to the Hanson place from Garcia while Reid nipped along at his heels.

* * *

Different noises attempted to penetrate the fog enveloping Emily's mind. The sound of voices, maniacal laughter, the moans and groans of an old house all tried and failed. It was the familiar ring tone that briefly brought Emily back to consciousness. With a bit of a struggle she managed to crack one eye open. The other was sealed shut by dry blood. Squinting in the gloom she labored to pinpoint where it was coming from. Her good eye fell on the puddle of clothing at her feet. The pounding in her head made thinking almost impossible. Emily couldn't figure out what the ringing signified but sensed it was important, that her life depended on it. The ringing stopped and she lost interest in it, letting her mind drift.

Then the screaming began. Emily jerked at the end of her tether as the blood curdling wails swirled around her. They burrowed into her brain making the throbbing in her head worse. She squeezed her eyes shut in a useless attempt to block them but she could still feel the howls tickling her skin. In desperation Emily started driving her injured shoulder into the wall hoping the pain would drown out the sounds, unwittingly adding her voice to the riotous clamor filling the air. The next scream was cut off in mid breath and an unearthly silence settled over the room. Emily sagged in her restraints, breathing heavily; relieved her torment was finally over. The fog rolled back in and she gratefully sank into its mind-numbing embrace.

* * *

The knuckles of Hotch's hands were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. He peered intently through the flying flakes pushing the SUV as fast as he dared on snow slick roads. Reid sat in the passenger seat acting as the navigator. He alternated between consulting the directions Garcia had sent them, searching for recognizable landmarks that were rapidly disappearing under a thick layer of snow and constantly redialing Prentiss' phone.

"Any luck?" Hotch asked.

Reid shook his head slowly as he pulled the phone away from his ear. "Emily still isn't answering."

Hotch's scowl deepened and he pressed down on the gas pedal urging the SUV to move faster. "How close are we?" he asked after driving another mile.

"Almost there," Reid said slowly, squinting through the windshield. "There! There! There!" he suddenly exclaimed pointing and almost poking Hotch in the nose with his finger.

Hotch jammed on the brakes, jerked the wheel hard to the left and sent the SUV fishtailing onto the barely visible dirt track. Reid let out a squeak of fright and clutched at the handle over the door. Hotch floored it. The rear tires spun spitting mud and snow before sending the SUV surging forward. The car bucked and twisted the entire length of the road, rattling both the frame and occupants inside. They burst into the clearing and Hotch barely avoided sliding into the rear of the snow covered police cruiser.

"They're still here," Reid observed as the two agents trudged by the vehicle, noting the two inches of snow blanketing it.

Hotch grunted as he leapt up the porch steps and slipped to a stop next to the door. Reid joined him a second later. Both men drew their weapons. "We go in quiet," Hotch said.

Reid nodded in agreement and grasped the doorknob. On the count of three he flung the door open. The two men burst silently into the old house. Reid made a beeline for the stairs while Hotch plunged into the first doorway on his left. He quickly cleared the living room and stepped back into the vestibule. Reid had paused on the first landing studying the floorboards. He pointed to a stain and whispered the word blood. Hotch nodded and started scanning the surrounding area. He immediately spotted more droplets, some of them smeared as if something or someone had been dragged and pointed them out to Reid. The young genius came back down and the two men, with guns held ready, followed the blood trail to another door. They exchanged glances and Reid jerked it open to reveal another set of stairs.

As quietly as they could, Hotch and Reid crept down the rickety flight of stairs. At the bottom they paused to let their eyes adjust to the poorly lit basement. A deathly silence hung over the space. Hotch signaled that Reid should go right. The young man nodded and disappeared into the gloom. The Unit Chief took a moment to center his thoughts and slipped off on quiet feet to the left.

Keeping his breathing slow and even he slowly made his way around the perimeter checking behind every box and peering into every nook and cranny. An odd shape next to a stone support pillar caught his eye. Gun held high he walked cautiously toward it. With each step the shape gradually took form. His eyes widened when he realized it was Emily.

* * *

 _And the first chapter is in the bag. Whew! Always nervous when I post a new story. Do come back next Weds. and please let me know what you think. Until then._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you everyone for the nice response to the opening chapter. Much appreciated. Now on with the show. Enjoy._

* * *

She hung limply by her wrists and dried blood from a nasty gash on her forehead coated the right side of her face staining the neck and shoulder of her beige turtleneck a rusty brown. Emily did not appear to be conscious. With the gun pointing down at the ground Hotch rushed to her side and pressed his fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. He closed his eyes briefly in relief when it beat strongly against them.

A puff of air ruffled his hair. Hotch threw his body to the right and the knife cut harmlessly through the space he had just been occupying. An unnerving shriek echoed off the walls. He rolled to his knees and spun; firing four rounds at point blank range into the apparition the materialized in front of him. It jerked to a stop, teetered in place briefly before slowly toppling backwards.

"Hotch! Are you alright?" Reid frantically called out, running up.

Hotch was back on his feet by the time the young man skidded to his side. "I'm fine."

The two agents stared down at the women lying dead at their feet. She did not give off the appearance of a crazy woman. Her makeup was artfully applied and her silver hair was braided neatly. The only inconsistency was the bloody carving knife inches away from her outstretched hand.

"Who do you think she is?" Reid asked.

"I believe it is Martha Hanson," Hotch replied grimly.

Reid blinked in surprise and looked at his boss. All thoughts about the dead body were pushed to one side when he glanced over Hotch's shoulder and took in the woman dangling mere feet from him. He found himself frozen by an unknown fear, not believing what he was seeing but more not wanting to believe it. Hotch calling out his name sharply snapped him out of his stupor.

"What was that?" he stammered.

"I need your help in getting Prentiss down," Hotch said firmly, getting the young man focused on the task at hand.

"Right," he said and hurried over to Emily's side.

Hotch fished a small pocketknife from his pants and handed it to Reid. "I'll hold her up and you cut the rope above her hands," he instructed. Reid nodded wordlessly.

Hotch wrapped his arms around Emily's waist and lifted her limp body up until there was enough slack in the rope for Reid to easily saw through it. Emily's arms came down around his neck. As carefully as he could, he eased her down to the floor and propped her against the pillar. He slipped his head out from her arms and let them drop into her lap where Reid attacked the knot holding her hands together. Hotch pulled out a handkerchief and attempted to wipe away the dry blood covering her right eye. When he had done all he could, Hotch gently cupped Emily's face in his hands. "Emily, can you hear me?" he asked urgently but softly.

Emily let out a low moan and her eyelids began to flutter. "That's it. Open your eyes for me," he encouraged.

With quite a bit of a struggle, Emily managed to pry her eyes open only to shut them when she found the harsh light of the dimly lit basement too blinding. A familiar voice kept cajoling her to keep them open. Fighting through the pounding in her head she forced them open again. Squinting against the perceived glare, Emily tried to focus on the face mere inches from hers.

"Hotch?" she rasped.

"Yes," he said and smiled. She had recognized him, if not by his face at least by his voice. "Reid is here too. He's holding on to your hand."

She nodded and leaned her head back against the cool stone. If felt good and she let her eyelids droop. "I need you to stay with me a little longer," Hotch insisted when he saw what she was doing.

"Okay," she slurred. She kept her eyes open but they remained unfocused.

The sound of feet pounding overhead and Morgan shouting out their names alerted the two men that the rest of the team had arrived. Reid let go of Emily's hand and dashed over to the steps. He shouted up that they were down in the basement and then returned to his injured friend's side. Moments later Morgan, Rossi and JJ thundered down the stairs. As they came over they all paused to look at the dead body the floor.

"Oh my god, Emily!" JJ cried, dropping to her knees next to Emily. Her eyes were wide and she had a hand over her mouth. Behind her Rossi and Morgan stood, wearing identical frowns of worry.

"What the hell happened?" Derek demanded, all his attention focused on his injured partner who seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. He could feel his anger rising, wanting to beat the crap out of whoever had done this to Emily.

Hotch shook his head. "I have no idea. I found Prentiss strung up by her wrists in this condition." He kept one hand pressed firmly against Emily's chest to keep her in an upright position. He, like Morgan, didn't like how she was looking and was afraid that she could pass out on him any minute.

When her eyes began to close Hotch gave her a little shake. "Prentiss, you still with me?"

Emily jerked awake. "Y…yeah," she said groggily.

Meanwhile Rossi was glancing around. "Reid, didn't you say there was a deputy with Emily?"

Reid's eyes went wide. "That's right. A Deputy Bennett. I forgot all about him when we found Emily."

"Damn!" Hotch swore and turned back to his injured agent. "Prentiss," he said in a stern voice, having learned that when she was in a concussed state she responded better when he used that tone. "Do you know what happened to Deputy Bennett?"

Emily blinked in confusion. "Who?"

Hotch opened his mouth to answer but stopped. Explaining it to her now wouldn't do any good. It would probably just confuse her more. They would have to wait for her to be more coherent to get any useful answers. Until then they would have to figure it out without her help.

Instead he turned back to his team. "We need to find him. Dave and Reid, continue searching the basement. Morgan and JJ, you finish clearing the upstairs. I'll stay with Prentiss." Everyone nodded and headed off.

Suddenly she grimaced. "My shoulder hurts," she complained.

"I know it does," he said in sympathy. He wanted to look more closely at her head wound but he was afraid of hurting her more. He gently turned her chin so he could see her eyes. "Prentiss, I need you to look at me. Good," he said when her eyes met his. "Do you hurt anywhere else?"

Emily thought about it, for what seemed to him too long of a time, before hazarding a guess. "My head?"

He knew that just from looking at her. "Which shoulder is it?" he asked instead.

She looked at him blankly. He sighed a little and, carefully, he ran one hand over her left shoulder first watching her intently for any response however small. When his hand touched the front, he could feel the bump from the shoulder joint being out of place. Emily's reaction was immediate. She hissed in pain and visibly paled, the sweat suddenly beading on her forehead stood out in sharp contrast.

Hotch looked at her in concern. "Are you going to be sick?"

"Yes…no…don't know."

Not wanting her to throw up on herself he glanced quickly around the space for anything that could be of use. He spied an old, dented copper pot in the corner. He dumped out some dirt and set it in her lap. Emily wrapped a shaking arm around it, pulling it closer to her chest. A minute later she threw up. Hotch was kneeling at her side holding back her hair when Dave and Reid returned.

"Hotch," you need to see this," Dave said, his face unreadable.

Hotch studied his face intently and then nodded. As he stood up he said, "Reid, stay here with Prentiss. But be careful of her left shoulder. Turns out that it has been dislocated. Try to keep her awake."

"Sure," Reid said and the two older men disappeared into the gloom.

* * *

Reid settled down cross-legged next to his friend. She was still awake but was staring vacantly at a spot to the left of him while clutching a metal pot to her chest. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side. He reached over and gently took the pot from her. She didn't put up any resistance.

"Hi, Emily," he said tentatively, setting it to one side.

Her eyes slowly slid over and focused on his face. "Reid?"

"Yup. You got it in one," he smiled. He was thrilled when she rewarded his lame attempt at humor with a small smile of her own.

"My shoulder hurts," she complained again.

He studied her, wondering if she had said it before. Repeating things was one of the indicators of a concussion. Hotch wanted him to keep her awake and the best way was to get her talking. He decided to see if she could recall the events leading up to her attack. Reid didn't have much hope in getting anything useful out of her since she didn't remember the deputy but he had to try.

"Emily," he called out her name, recapturing her attention that had drifted. "Do you remember how you hurt your shoulder?"

Emily frowned, concentrating hard on his question. "I fell?" she asked, sounding unsure of her own answer.

 _That's a bit broad. Let's see if I can narrow that down._ Aloud he asked, "Were you knocked over the second floor railing?" She looked at him in confusion. "Were you pushed down the stairs?" He got another blank look.

She started to shake her head but thought better of it when the pounding increased. "Don't know," she admitted.

"Okay." _Time to try from a different direction._ "Can you tell me anything you remember?"

"Creaking. Pain. Red. Moving ceiling," she ground out, beginning to grow agitated with her inability to recover those memories.

Reid could see that he had unintentionally upset her with his questions. He needed to calm her down or Hotch would kill him. "Forget all of that. Why don't we play a game instead?"

Her unfocused eyes drifted back to him, her forehead puckered in confusion. "Game?"

"Yeah. I'll give you a word and you tell me the first thing that pops into your head. Let's see how many silly combinations we can make." When she didn't refuse, he took that as a good sign. "I'll start with the word blue."

* * *

Hotch followed Rossi to the opposite side of the basement. Both men were silent for the entire walk. "It's Deputy Bennett?" he asked when Dave paused by the blue tarp draped between the two outer walls to create a separate room.

Dave nodded. "It's not pretty," he said as he lifted a corner and ducked under with Hotch right behind him.

Hotch stood with his arms crossed, scowling at the grisly sight. Deputy Bennett laid spread eagle on a metal table tied at the wrists and ankles. He had been stripped of his uniform and someone had carved the unfortunate man open from collarbone to crotch. Some of his internal organs had been removed and placed on another table; a few showed signs of being dissected. His sightless blue eyes were wide with shock, lips pulled back from clenched teeth locked in a silent scream. Dumped on the ground was a blood soaked poncho.

"He was awake when she cut him open," Hotch observed.

"Yup," Dave agreed, hands clenched in his pockets. "Hell of a way to die."

The two men fell quiet studying the crime scene. Hotch eventually leaned forward taking a closer look at the body while making sure not to disturb anything. "The incision is jagged and it is not one continuous line. She kept starting and stopping."

Dave nodded. "Think it was her first time?"

Hotch shook his head. "I don't see any hesitation cuts. I would chalk it up to inexperience and using the wrong knife."

"Do you believe Martha Hanson had this planned for Prentiss?" Dave gestured to the room.

Hotch was now slowly circling the tables. "Yes, but not right away."

Dave frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"She tied up Prentiss and left her hanging in the opposite end of the basement." Hotch then pointed to the removed organs. "Some of these have been cut open like she was trying to see how they worked."

A look of disgust flashed across Dave's face. "She was saving Emily to experiment on later."

"I'm afraid so," Hotch said, pulling out his phone to notify the Sheriff that his deputy was dead and to see if he could get a crime scene unit and an ambulance for Emily out there.

Dave stared back in the direction they had left Emily. "Do you think Emily heard his screams?" he asked, worry echoing in his voice.

"If she was conscious, how could she not?"

* * *

 _Well well well. Interesting turn of events. Do check in next to find out what happens next. Until then._


	3. Chapter 3

_Now on with the show. Enjoy._

* * *

When they returned to where they had left Emily and Reid, Morgan and JJ hadn't found anything during on their sweep of the rest of the house. Hotch was pleased to see that she was still awake and trying very hard, but unsuccessfully, to follow the conversation between the three agents. He could see her eyes flickering from face to face, going vacant when she lost her place. Emily still looked like she was in a lot of pain and ready to pass out.

"Was it Deputy Bennett?" Morgan asked as Hotch took Reid's place at Emily's side.

"Most definitely," Rossi said. On the way back both men had already decided not to tell Emily about the deputy's death until she was strong enough to handle it.

"So what do we do next?" Reid asked.

"Nothing we can do at the moment," Hotch said, keeping his eyes trained on Emily. "I spoke to Sheriff Holmes. It is a blizzard out there and all the roads are impassable. We're stuck here until the storm blows over. He'll try to get a snowplow out here as fast as he can."

"But Emily needs a hospital," JJ protested.

"I know she does, but there is nothing we can do until the plow gets here. Prentiss' injuries do not seem to be life threatening. We can take care of her for the next day or two."

JJ snorted in annoyance and Morgan let out a growl before he disappeared from sight. Not long after they heard him punching a wooden rafter. Even Emily in her concussed state flinched at the sound. A minute later he returned calmer. Reid kept his thoughts to himself.

Rossi clapped his hands. "Since it seems we are taking an unexpected mini vacation, we should probably see what supplies are here."

"Good idea," Hotch said.

Derek spoke up. "We can set up camp in the living room. It's big and it has a fireplace. I'll go see if it works."

Hotch nodded his approval. "And I'll get some pillows and blankets," JJ offered. "We can make a bed for Emily by the fire."

"I'll see if I can get to the cars for the flashlights and the first aid kit," Dave volunteered, pulling his coat tighter around his body and heading for the stairs.

Hotch was thankful everyone had a task to occupy their minds instead of standing around worrying about their injured teammate. With everyone else gone, the only ones left in the basement were Reid, Hotch, and Emily.

"We should realign her shoulder," Reid said.

"Shouldn't we just immobilize the arm and let the hospital do it?" Hotch asked.

"We could, but with the shoulder dislocated, Emily has to be in constant pain. She shouldn't have to endure that for a couple of days if we can alleviate it now."

"You're right. Hotch glanced up at the younger agent. "Do you know how to do it?"

"Yes, I do," he said quickly. "It's simple, but it will be extremely painful for Emily."

"I can take it," Emily said weakly. Her eyes were still unfocused so Hotch wasn't sure if she was with them or lost in some memories.

Hotch smiled. "I know you can. Reid, what is the first step?"

Reid scratched his chin. "It would be best if she was in a prone position. It would give you more leverage."

"Right," Hotch said. He gave Emily a slight shake. "Prentiss, can you look at me?" Slowly her eyes came up to meet his. "I am going to realign your shoulder but we need to have you lying down so we have to move you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Emily nodded. "Just do it," she whispered.

"Okay." He looked at the young genius. "It's going to take both of us. You take her right side and I'll try to keep the arm from moving." Hotch waited for Reid to move to her side, sliding his arm behind her back. "On the count of three. One…two…three!"

Together the two men carefully eased her down onto the floor. Emily grimaced against the pain and paled. Hotch knew what was going to happen next. "We need to roll her on her side now!"

They had barely rolled her when Emily threw up again. Hotch gently rubbed her back like he would for Jack when he was sick. After the dry heaves had passed they finished moving her into position.

"What's next?" He asked when he thought she had recovered enough for the next step.

"Well. You need to make sure the upper arm is in its resting position, parallel to the floor. Then bend the arm at a ninety degree angle, rotate it and the shoulder inward toward the chest to make an 'L' shape."

Hotch stared at him and Emily let out a low groan. "Could I have that in plain English?"

Reid blinked. "Oh. Sure. Ummm…bend her elbow at a ninety angle. Her hand should be facing the ceiling."

Hotch took her arm gently and bent it until her hand pointed up. Emily hissed in pain. He felt for her. If it hurt that much with that little movement it was about to get a whole lot worse. "Next."

"Rotate the arm toward the chest."

He did as he was told until the palm of her hand hovered over her stomach. "Okay. Next."

"Emily needs to make a fist."

"Prentiss, can you make a fist for me?" She nodded and struggled through the pain to do it. Hotch laid his hand on top of hers to help her finish. "That's it. You did good."

"Now put your right hand on her upper arm to hold it still. Take her wrist in your other hand and rotate the lower arm back away from the body. Once it is past ninety degrees, the shoulder should move back into position," Reid instructed and took Emily's good hand in his.

Hotch looked her in the eyes. "Ready?"

Emily took a deep breath and brought her knees up. "Ready," she murmured.

Hotch took her wrist and slowly turned her lower arm. Reid winced when she clamped down on his hand. Emily squeezed her eyes shut and swore between clenched teeth. "FUCK!"

There was an audible pop as the joint slid back into place. Emily's body tensed then sagged in relief as the excruciating pain instantly faded.

"How is the shoulder feeling now?" the Unit Chief asked her.

"Still hurts," she panted.

"But not as much as before?"

"Yeah," came her tired answer.

"We should still immobilize the arm," Reid suggested.

"Definitely," Hotch agreed. "But let's get her upstairs first. Then we can find something to make a sling out of."

He rested her injured arm in her lap and moved to her good side with Reid getting out of the way. "Prentiss," Hotch said, pulling her fleeting attention back to him. "We need to get back upstairs –"

"Up…upstairs?" she interrupted, looking up at him with confused and unfocused eyes. "Where am I?"

"You're in the basement," Reid supplied.

Emily frowned. "How…how did I –"

"I'll fill you in later. Right now, we have to get you upstairs. Do you think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?"

A look of indignation flirted over her face. "I can walk."

Hotch let out a soft chuckle. "I knew you were going to say that but I had to ask." He was secretly relieved that she said she could walk. The basement stairs were rather steep and narrow and he hadn't been sure if he would have been able to maneuver her up the steps without hurting her more.

"Okay, let's get you upright." With a nod to Reid, the men eased Emily into a seated position and then held her in place, waiting to see if she was going to be sick again. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard when she tasted bile tickling the back of her throat.

"You ready to go?" he asked her when she reopened her eyes.

"Yeah," she confirmed after another swallow.

"Okay. Can you put your right arm around my neck?" Hotch asked, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'right' so that she wouldn't get confused and try to move her left.

Emily nodded once and sluggishly raised her good arm, laying it across his shoulders. Hotch took her wrist in his right hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist, taking a good hold of her belt. Reid held her bad arm in place with one hand and used the other to grip her belt on the opposite side of Hotch's. Between the two agents, there was no chance of Emily accidentally falling down. Hotch counted to three and as one, they eased her to her feet. With the Unit Chief taking most of her weight, they guided their injured friend over to the stairs, Emily struggling to get one foot in front of the other.

They paused at the bottom step. Hotch squeezed her wrist to get her attention. "Now when I say step, I want you to raise your foot. You got that, Prentiss?"

Emily blinked lazily at him and nodded. "Yeah. Step. Lift foot."

"Good." Hotch tightened his grip on her wrist and belt before setting his foot on the first tread.

"Step," he said and Emily raised her foot, the toe of her boot clipping the front of the step before settling on it. Hotch stepped up and pulled her up with him. They repeated the process twelve more times. Sometimes Emily found the step easily, other times she fumbled around for it. Hotch remained patient, constantly giving her words of encouragement, telling her that she was doing great.

By the time they reached the first floor, Emily was exhausted. She closed her eyes and let her head slip down onto his shoulder. Hotch took a quick peek at her and adjusted his grip on her so that he was basically carrying her. With Emily stumbling between them, the two agents made their way down the short hallway to the living room.

Inside Derek had managed to start a fire, its dancing flames filling the room with comforting warmth. JJ was waiting for them. She had removed the cushions from a couch she found in another room and had laid them out before the fireplace. They were placed close enough to keep Emily warm but not too close for her to get hot. Over the cushions she had throw a blanket and a pile of extra blankets and pillows were off to the side.

"Morgan is looking for more firewood," she explained as Hotch and Reid stopped next to the temporary bed.

He nodded and said, "With Reid's help I've managed to realign Prentiss' dislocated shoulder." He turned to the young man and said, "Let's see if we can put her down as gently as possible."

"Sure," he said and continued to cradle Emily's bad arm in his hands. JJ hovered nervously behind them ready to give aid when needed. She looked at her friend in concern, seeing that her eyes were closed. "Did Emily pass out during it?"

He smiled. "No. She soldiered through it without complaint. She just exhausted from climbing the stairs," he explained as they eased her down onto the make shift bed.

"That sounds like Emily. She's as tough as nails," JJ said with a chuckle.

Hotch held Emily in an upright position with her head still resting against his shoulder, now sound asleep. "We need to make a sling."

JJ smiled. "Way ahead of you, Hotch," she said, showing him the sheet she had cut up.

"Excellent," he said with a nod. Reid let go and Hotch gently moved her arm into position causing Emily to let out a low moan of pain in her sleep. JJ slipped the strip of cloth under and around the injured limb and knotted the loose ends behind Emily's neck. Then she spread the fabric out until it supported the lower arm from hand to elbow. She was about to wrap another piece of the sheet around Emily's chest to keep the sling in place when the storm blew Rossi in, his hair white with snow.

"It's miserable out here. I almost got lost walking the twenty feet from the porch to the SUV's," he marveled, putting down his bundles to shed his snow saturated coat. "I found some rope in the trunk of the cruiser and strung it between the cars and the porch railing in case we have to go back out."

"Good idea," Hotch agreed then turned his attention back to Emily tightening his grip on her when she shifted restlessly in his arms.

Dave went over to the fire to warm his hands. "I brought in the first aid kit. You might find something that might work better than the sheet," he said to JJ.

JJ retrieved the kit and flipped it open. Inside she found an elastic bandage. She wrapped it several times around Emily's chest and upper arm. As an afterthought she looped it around the arm and over her good shoulder, immobilizing the injured limb securely to her body. When she was done JJ nodded to Hotch and together they eased Emily down on to her back. JJ slid a pillow under her head while Reid covered her with one of the blankets he had plucked off the pile.

Morgan entered with an armload of wood. "We're set with firewood," he informed everyone. "There is a big pile on the back porch." He set his load down on the hearth and went to squat next to JJ. He then reached down to tuck the blanket more tightly around his partner. "How is she?" he asked JJ.

"She's sleeping." JJ gently tilted Emily's head to one side and squinted at the bloody gash. "I'm going to get some water to clean off the dried blood. Will you stay with her?"

"Of course," he said and settled into a more comfortable position. Derek wanted to hold her hand but Emily looked so pale and fragile, he was afraid he would break her.

JJ returned a few minutes later with a bowl of warm water and a couple of clean towels. Derek got out of her way and went to stand with the three other men. As one, they watched JJ gently clean out the head wound. Hotch stood with his arms crossed wearing his worried frown. Derek mimicked his pose. Dave had his hand buried in his jeans pockets while Reid fidgeted with is tie.

Hotch's frown deepened when he spoke. "Prentiss is our first priority. Her shoulder's realigned and it's clear she has a concussion, but I couldn't detect any other injuries. That doesn't mean that there aren't any, so we'll just have to wait for her to wake and tell us.

Dave chuckled. "Like that is going to happen. Emily gives a whole new meaning to the word 'stoic'."

A small smile tugged at Hotch's lips and his frown eased a fraction of an inch. "True but she did complain to me about her shoulder several times."

"She told me the same thing," Reid chimed in.

"We need to monitor her condition closely. One of us should be with her at all times." Hotch looked at the other men and they nodded their agreement.

"We should wake her every two hours and run her through a series of questions," Reid suggested. "Based on the answers we'll know if she is improving or getting worse."

Again there was another round of nods and Derek set his watch to go off every two hours. Dave looked at his fellow agents with a slight smirk on his face. "You do know that after a while Emily is going to be quite put out with us for constantly interrupting her sleep."

Reid smiled. "She'll be down right cranky."

"I think we can handle a grumpy Prentiss for a few days," Derek said, also smiling. "It will be a piece of cake."

"When Emily is awake," Hotch spoke up, reminding everyone of the seriousness of the situation, "We need to make sure she drinks plenty of water. We don't want her to get dehydrated. Plus we should try to get her to eat and see if she can keep it down. She's thrown up twice so far."

"Sure," Dave agreed for all of them.

"So what do we do in the meantime when Emily is sleeping?" Reid asked.

Hotch looked each one of his agents in turn. "We work the case and figure out what the hell happened here."

* * *

 _Looks like they are stuck for the night. Come back next week to see how it goes. Until then._


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the nice response to this story so far. It's much appreciated. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

JJ listened to the men talking with one ear while she focused on washing away the dried blood coating the side of Emily's face and jaw. The water in the bowl rapidly turned from clear to bright red in minutes. When JJ made it to the actual head wound she had to stop and fetch a fresh bowl. Armed with a clean towel she went to work on the laceration, dabbing gently. Her tender ministrations loosened the fragile scab prompting it to ooze fresh blood. Emily winced at the touch in her sleep and tried to turn her head away.

As she waited for Emily to settle JJ studied the injury closely. What she saw made her frown and called out to the men. "Guys, you should take a look at this."

"What is it?" Hotch asked as he and the rest of the team gathered around their injured teammate.

"Take a look at Emily's head wound," she said, nodding to the injury. "It's not a straight cut or a jagged tear."

Reid leaned down to take a closer look, squinting as he did so. "It appears to be in the shape of a half circle. Interesting," he murmured.

"What is?" Morgan asked.

Reid pointed with his forefinger. "If you look closely at the bruising forming around the wound you can see grooves. As the bruise darkens they will become more pronounced."

"So you think Emily was hit with something cylindrical in nature?" Dave asked.

Reid nodded. "I believe so."

JJ paused in applying the butterfly strips she had found the first aid kit. The wound probably needed stitches, but they do for now. "What kind of weapon would leave such a mark?"

The young genius shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea at the moment. But I do know it has to be somewhere in this house. Martha Hanson probably took it down to the basement with her or left it where ever she had attacked Emily and the deputy."

Hotch nodded. "We need to find it. Morgan and Dave, head back downstairs and reexamine the crime scene. Reid, you take this floor and I will search the second floor." The Unit Chief turned to the blonde agent. "JJ," he began.

She stopped him. "I'll be right here with Emily." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Go do what you need to do. We'll be fine."

"All right," Hotch said. "Give a yell if you need any assistance."

JJ smiled. "Believe me; you'll have no trouble hearing me." Hotch nodded and the men set out on their assignments leaving the two women alone.

The liaison turned her attention back to Emily. She applied some ointment to the forehead and then peeled the wrapping off a sterile pad. She gently pressed the bandage over the wound and then she secured it in place with plenty of medical tape. Emily let out a low moan and dragged her hand out from beneath the blanket to bat weakly at JJ's hands. She caught the brunette's hand in hers and gave it a small squeeze. Emily turned her head and JJ saw her dark brown eyes were partly open and full of confusion.

"JJ?" she whispered.

JJ gave her a warm smile and leaned in. "Hey," she greeted her friend softly. "It's good to see you awake."

Emily's brows drew down into a frown and her eyes started to scan the room, the confusion in them changing to panic. "Where…where am I?" she stammered in a raspy voice.

JJ tenderly cupped Emily's chin in one hand forcing her to stay focused on her. "You're at the Hanson residence. You took a nasty blow to the head."

The confusion returned. "I…I did?"

"Yes. You don't remember?"

Emily started to shake her head but stopped with the pounding intensified. She closed her eyes against the pain and whispered, "No."

"That is okay. It will come back to you later." JJ didn't know if that would happen but it sounded plausible and reassuring.

When Emily didn't answer JJ thought she had fallen back to sleep. Emily, however, reopened her eyes and licked her lips. "Thirsty."

"I'll get you some water." She looked around but the only water she could see was the red tinged liquid she had used to clean the head wound. She was debating if she should leave her friend's side or wait for one of the guys to return when the noise of drawers opening and closing reached her ears. _Reid must be close by_. "Spence!" she called out loudly.

The sound of feet pounding across the floor told her that he had heard her. Moments later, he burst through the doorway and slid to a stop next to the make shift bed. Reid's eyes were wide with worry, panting heavily from the exertion.

"JJ, is something wrong? Is Emily all right?" The words tumbled out of his mouth.

JJ laughed lightly. "Everything is fine. Emily is thirsty and I don't have any water. Could you get her a glass?"

"Sure," he said and hurried off to the kitchen.

JJ squeezed Emily's hand to get her attention. "Can I do anything for you while we wait?"

Emily withdrew her hand to tug at the blanket. "I'm cold."

"I can take care of that." JJ stood up and tossed another log on the fire. Then she grabbed a second blanket from the pile, unfolded it, and draped it over her friend.

"Better?"

"Better." This time Emily managed a slight nod.

Reid came back in carrying a glass of water. "I couldn't find any bottled water so I had to use a glass. I only filled it halfway to minimize the chances of her spilling most of it," he explained.

"Thanks, Spence," she said. "Could you hold on to it while I help Emily to sit up?"

"Yup."

JJ scooted closer and slid her arm behind Emily's good shoulder and down to her waist. With her free hand she took hold of Emily's. "Ready?" she asked the brunette.

Emily swallowed. "Ready," she said.

On a silent count of three, JJ eased Emily into an upright position. Emily grunted in pain. She jerked her hand free and pressed it hard against the cushion she was sitting on to steady herself when the room spun. JJ tightened her hold. "Em, are you okay?"

Emily squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to fight off a wave of nausea. "Just a bit dizzy."

"No problem. You take your time. We're not in any hurry since we are snowed in," JJ said lightly.

"We are?" she asked in confusion. She cracked her eyes open and tried to look out the window. All she saw was white but she couldn't tell if it was snow she was seeing or if her vision was fuzzy. The pounding in her head made it difficult to think so she abandoned trying to figure out which one was true. Instead, she reverted back to her favorite topic. "My shoulder hurts," Emily complained and reached over with a shaky hand to rub it. "Why does my shoulder hurt and why can't I move my arm?"

Reid spoke up. "Your shoulder was dislocated and Hotch, with my help, realigned it for you. Then we put your arm in a sling to keep it in place."

Emily blinked up at him. "He did?"

The young genius frowned slightly. "You don't have any memory of it?"

"No," she confessed with a voice marked with frustration.

JJ gestured to Reid to hand over the glass of water. It was time to distract Emily before she grew agitated. They wanted her to remain calm. "Here is your water," she said, holding the glass up to Emily's lips. "Let me hold it for you. You're looking a little shaky at the moment," JJ added quickly when Emily tried to take the glass from her. She was afraid that her friend would end up wearing more than she drank. In the end, Emily settled for wrapping her hand around JJ's on the glass.

"Take sips," JJ cautioned, watching her drink. "You don't want to get sick."

Reid looked at JJ. "When she is done we should run her through a cognitive test." JJ nodded in agreement.

When Emily finished drinking her fill, she pushed the glass and JJ's hand away. "Done?" the blonde asked.

"Yes. I'm tired," she announced with a sluggish voice.

Reid took that as his cue to ask his questions before she nodded off. "Emily?" he called out her name.

She slid her weary filled eyes over to him and blinked, having forgotten that he was there. "Reid?"

He smiled gently. "Yup, it me. Can you tell me what my first name is?"

Emily frowned slightly at what she thought was an odd question. "Spencer," she answered.

His smile grew wider. "Good," he said and pointed to JJ. "What does 'JJ' stand for?"

Her frown deepened as she slowly followed his outstretched arm with her eyes. "Jennifer Jareau."

"Great!" he enthused. "Now can you tell me what twenty minus eight is?"

The look of puzzlement on her face was replaced by one of annoyance. This time Emily hesitated for a heartbeat or two before answering testily, "Twelve."

Reid realized that he was teetering on the edge of her patience level which, given the concussion, was rather low. "Emily, can you answer one more question for me before you go back to sleep?"

Emily sighed loudly and deeply. "Fine," she said, irritation sounding in her voice. All she wanted to do was to sleep.

He held up his hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

She squinted at his hand. "Four," she said decisively.

"Excellent!" Reid said and shared a worried glance with JJ over the three fingers he was holding up. Mentally he checked off another box under concussion symptoms: blurred vision.

"Can I go to sleep now?" Emily asked plaintively.

"Yes you can," JJ said reassuring and helped her to lie back down. Emily sighed in relief and with her good hand, and JJ's help, pulled the blankets up to her chin. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

JJ reached out to gently brush a few strands of stray hair off Emily's forehead. "Blurry vision?" she asked Reid for confirmation.

The young man nodded. "Emily has all the signs of a bad concussion. Blurred vision, dizziness, nausea, confusion, memory loss and repeating things." He ticked each one off on his fingers.

JJ tucked the blanket tighter around her slumbering teammate then looked hopefully at Reid. "But she did answer all your other questions correctly. That is a good sign isn't it, Spence?"

Reid smiled. "It's very encouraging."

* * *

Derek stood there, slowly shaking his head side to side. "This is bad. Really bad."

"Yup," Dave agreed.

The two agents were staring sadly at the mutilated corpse of Deputy Bennett. On the way to the basement the men planned out their course of action. First, they would give the crime scene a more thorough examination than the cursory look over Hotch and Dave had given it earlier. Dave also kept his initial observations to himself, preferring to see what conclusions Derek came up with on his own. He had no doubt they would be very close to his own.

Derek donned a pair a crime scene gloves that Dave had retrieved from the SUV's. Slowly he approached the body while the older profiler looked on. "She really did a number on him," he observed.

"That she did." Dave stood with his feet spread, thumbs hooked in his jeans pocket and his elbows pointing out. His face was unreadable.

Derek touched the incision with one finger. "The cut pattern is identical to those on the previous three victims. No hesitation marks. More of a sawing motion than cutting. Probably had the wrong kind of knife or the blade was dull."

He spoke from experience, having personally viewed the bodies in the morgue with Emily yesterday. All three victims, two men and one woman, had been cut open in the same manner. The only difference was that the female victim had suffered multiple fractures before being gutted alive. Derek tried not to dwell on how close Emily had come to being victim number five. But he couldn't. Every time he looked at the metal table, he didn't see Deputy Bennett, he saw Emily laying there, her dead eyes boring into him.

Dave read his mind. "Don't go there, Morgan. We found Prentiss in time and she's going to be fine. She's tough. You need to stay focused on the case."

"I know you're right. It's just hard…" he sighed and shook his head.

Dave came over and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "When a friend is personally involved," he finished for the younger agent. "Tell me what else you see."

He walked over to the other table where the partially dissected organs laid and picked up a bloodied hammer. "She used this to break through the rib cage to get at the heart and lungs." Repulsed by the image of it being used on Emily, he dropped it back on the table with a metallic ring.

Meanwhile Dave wandered over to the blood soaked poncho and picked it up. "She was smart enough to cover up to keep her clothes clean. And she wore gloves," he added after spotting them on ground. They had been hidden beneath the poncho.

"How do you think she subdued him?" Derek asked, turning his attention back to the body. "He's a big guy."

Dave shrugged and dropped the poncho back where he had found it. "Probably the same way she did with Emily."

Derek grunted in agreement and ran his hands over the dead deputy's head. "There's no visible injury like Emily's but," he paused to tilt the head to one side. "There is a good size goose egg on the back of his head."

"So she blitzed him from behind," Dave stated.

"Apparently." Derek sighed and straightened. "I think we've seen all we can here. Let's go have a look at Martha Hanson."

Dave nodded and together the two men silently crossed the basement. Halfway Derek stopped and slowly looked around. "Morgan, something wrong?"

The black agent ran a hand over his closely shaved head. "I don't know, Rossi." He shrugged helplessly. "Maybe this place is giving off some bad vibes."

"Think it is," Dave agreed. He slapped Derek on the shoulder. "Let's get this over with so we can get back upstairs to Emily."

Derek nodded wordlessly and followed the senior agent over to the sprawled form of Martha Hanson. They knelt on either side of the body.

"She looks all put together," Dave observed, rubbing his goatee thoughtfully, "for a woman who just gutted a man alive."

"I agree. She doesn't have a hair out of place nor a speck of blood on her. I don't know how she managed not to get any on her. The blood had to be spurting everywhere while his heart continued to beat."

"Maybe she cleaned up afterwards?" Dave asked with the raising of his eyebrows.

"Possible," Derek conceded. "She could be a neat freak. She looks like she is all decked out to host an afternoon tea party."

"It's like a twisted game of 'Clue'. June Cleaver in the basement with the carving knife," Dave remarked without humor.

* * *

Before returning upstairs and to their teammates, Derek turned to the corner of the basement where Emily had been strung up like a side of beef. His stomach clenched in a knot as did his hands. The anger, from knowing the pain his friend was in and the torture she would have suffered through, threatened to overwhelm his being. He had to remind himself that it had not happened and released a heavy breath to regain reality.

He knelt down and fingered the remains of the rope that had been used to bind Emily's wrists. He could still see the flecks of blood trapped in its fibers from when it had dug into her skin. He closed his eyes briefly; glad he had not witnessed her hanging there though his imagination was painting a rather vivid picture for him. He sighed and shoved the image out of his head, choosing to distract himself by scooping up her abandoned coat and gloves.

"She's going to need these when we leave," he explained to Dave as he automatically went through the coat's pockets. He quickly found her credentials and ID badge in one pocket and her cell phone in the other. Derek pulled it out and scrolled through the numerous missed calls from JJ and Reid.

Derek frowned as he was putting it back. "Rossi, do you remember seeing Emily's weapon when we found her?"

Dave shook his head. "No, I don't but maybe Hotch or Reid picked it up since they were the first ones on the scene."

"That's a possibility," Derek said in agreement. "But if they didn't then we have another mystery on our hands."

* * *

A strange sight greeted the two agents when they returned to the first floor. Reid was slowly crawling up the stairs on his hands and knees. Derek draped Emily's coat over his arm before crossing them and cocking an amused eyebrow. "Kid, what the hell are you doing?"

Reid's head popped up and he smiled sheepishly. "I'm looking for blood splatter."

"I'll bite," Dave said, equally amused. "Why are you looking for blood splatter?"

The young genius turned his eyes back to the steps. "I have hypothesized that Emily's shoulder injury was the result of a fall and not from a blow. So that leaves us with two options. One, she took a tumble over the second floor railing or, two, she took a header down the stairs."

"And which one is speaking to you the most?" Dave asked.

"The second scenario seems more likely. She would have had more injuries than a dislocated shoulder if she had fallen from the second floor landing. Plus, I didn't find any pooling of blood from the head wound if she laid there for awhile."

"But you found blood on the stairs?" Derek questioned.

"I did," Reid said with an enthusiastic nod.

"Spence, how do you know it's Emily's? It could belong to Deputy Bennett," JJ pointed out from her spot in the living room doorway. From there she could keep a watchful eye on Reid and Emily.

A look of puzzlement came over his face. "Um," he faltered.

"It's Emily's," Derek said softly. "The Deputy also took a blow to the head but it didn't break the skin."

Reid got to his feet and descended the stairs. He stopped on the small landing at the bottom and gestured to the top of the staircase. "I believe Emily was blindsided at the top and then was either pushed or fell down the stairs." He turned and patted the banister. "This stopped her momentum and probably was the cause of the shoulder dislocation."

"Do you think she saw her attacker?" JJ asked.

"I doubt it or if she did, it's lost in the aftermath of the concussion," Dave said.

Derek sighed. "We now know the who and the where. We're still missing the what and the why."

"I have the what." Everyone turned as one to see Hotch standing at the top of the stairs. In his gloved hand he held a croquet mallet, its head stained with blood on one end. His mouth was set in a grim line, furious that someone had actually used it on one of his agents. He was extremely thankful that Prentiss seemed to have a thick skull. The blow she had taken might have been fatal to others.

Dave squinted at the weapon. "Is that a croquet mallet?" he asked in disbelief.

Hotch came down to join them. "It is. I believe it was a weapon of opportunity. I found the entire set in the bedroom directly across from the stairs. What I find odd is that Martha Hanson took the time to put it back where she found it yet she didn't bother to clean it."

"There is a lot that is odd about this UnSub," Dave said to himself, staring off into space. He spoke it so softly that the rest of the team did not hear him.

Derek spoke up. "Speaking of weapons, has anyone seen Emily's Glock?"

Hotch and Reid shook their heads while JJ disappeared back into the living room. She returned moments later. "Her holster is empty," she announced.

"Our UnSub must have taken it," Derek concluded.

Hotch frowned. "If she had it, she would have tried to shoot me. Instead, she opted to use a knife."

Reid gnawed thoughtfully on the knuckle of his thumb. His face suddenly brightened. "I think I know what happened." He bounded down the last two steps and scurried behind the landing. Pushed up against it was a long, narrow table covered with old mail haphazardly piled and a large arrangement of fake flowers.

While the rest looked on, Reid peeked behind and below the table. He frowned slightly when he didn't find it and shoved his hand into the arrangement rooting around. Reid let out a squeak of triumph and held up the Glock. "Emily must have dropped it when she fell."

JJ glanced back at the slumbering Emily. "If she had drawn her gun, Emily must have felt that she was in danger." Everyone nodded in agreement.

Dave shoved his hand in his pants pockets. "Something is bothering me about this whole thing."

Hotch crossed his arms. "What is it, Dave?"

He turned to Derek. "How old do you think Martha Hanson is?"

The dark skinned agent shrugged. "I would say late fifties to early sixties."

"And how much do you think she weighs?" the older profiler probed.

Derek shrugged a second time. "A hundred pounds or less. Why?" he asked, puzzled.

Dave looked from face to face. "How could a woman of her age and stature over power two fit and younger law enforcement officers then drag their unconscious bodies down a flight of stairs to the basement? Especially the deputy, he's a big man. And then haul him up on the table and string Prentiss up by her wrists."

Hotch's frown deepened, his eyebrows almost touching. "She has a partner."

* * *

 _Dum dum dum! The plot doth thicken. Do come back new week to see how it shakes out. Until then._


	5. Chapter 5

_Here you go. Enjoy._

* * *

"She has a partner," Hotch declared.

The second he uttered those four words, everyone dropped their hands to their weapons and looked suspiciously around the hallway and up the stairs. Hotch jerked his head to one side, indicating that they should move closer to JJ. Everyone nodded and followed the Unit Chief to huddle around the blonde liaison.

Hotch dropped his voice into a low whisper. "Our second UnSub could still be here. I want this place torn apart from top to bottom, every nook and cranny searched. Morgan, Reid, start on the second floor and work you're way up. Dave and I will start here and work our way down to the basement. Until we know for sure that he is not here, no one should be alone, especially Emily since she is unable to defend herself." He directed those last words at JJ, who nodded that she understood her assignment.

The team looked at each other before silently splitting off to start their search, Reid pausing to slide Emily's Glock into his satchel before handing it to JJ for safekeeping. She retreated into the living room with the bag and Emily's coat that Derek had turned over to her. She dumped both items off to one side and kneeled next to Emily's make shift bed, positioning herself between her friend and the door.

JJ pulled her weapon and let her eyes flicker between the main entrance and the sliding doors that led to the dining room. Within minutes, the sounds of doors slamming open, echoed throughout the house. Emily stirred restlessly in her sleep when the noises began to penetrate her fragmented dreams. JJ reached back to rest a comforting hand on Emily's knee. When it began to tremble, she ran her hand up and down the brunette's leg in a soothing motion.

"It's okay, Emily. It's just the guys making a bunch of noise. You got nothing to worry about," she said, hoping her calm voice would settle her friend's concussed mind. Eventually the trembling stopped and she fell into a deeper sleep.

The banging began to fade, making JJ deduce that the men had moved on to the basement and attic. Soon she couldn't hear them at all, which she found to be more unsettling than the thought of another UnSub in the house. JJ continued to rub the brunette's leg, more for her own benefit than Emily's. She felt like they were the only two remaining in the old house.

CREAK!

JJ's head snapped to the left, staring at the sliding door leading to the dining room. She shook her head, unsure if she had heard it or that her imagination was playing tricks with her.

Creak! Creak!

Her body jerked around, weapon pointing at the door, both hands wrapped tightly around the grip. She had definitely had heard that and quickly weighed her options. She could not budge one inch and remain at Emily's side. Hotch had told her to yell if she needed help and right now she could use it. But if she did, it could alert their UnSub that she was on to him, prompting him to attack or flee. Or she could go and open the door so that she had a clear shot at whoever walks through. JJ chose the last option.

JJ leaned down, gently touched Emily's arm that was in the sling and whispered, "Hey, Em, I'll be right back. I'm just going to open the door to the dining room. Don't go anywhere." Emily mumbled something in her sleep that JJ decided to take as an okay.

She straightened and as quietly as she could, crept forward, eyes glued on the closed door. JJ had taken only two steps when a floorboard groaned. She spun around on her heels.

"Whoa, JJ! Easy there."

JJ blinked. Derek, with Reid peering anxiously over his shoulder, stood in the doorway with his hands up. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she lowered her weapon. She then was hit with a sense of déjà vu, flashing back to when she had pulled her gun on Emily at Hankel's house.

"Sorry about that guys. You surprised me is all," she said lightly, trying to hide her unease.

Derek saw the look in her eyes and dropped his hand to his gun. "What's wrong, JJ?" he demanded.

She sighed and gestured to the sliding door. "I heard noises coming from there," she explained.

Instantly on alert, Derek signaled Reid to follow him. On quiet feet, the two agents approached the door and assumed positions on either side of it. Meanwhile, JJ returned to Emily's side, her weapon held ready. Derek nodded and Reid curled his fingers around the handle and slid the door open with a loud bang. They disappeared inside but returned in minutes, holstering their guns.

"No one was there, JJ," Derek said.

JJ released the breath she had been holding and lowered her weapon. "Thank god."

Reid gave her a puzzled look. "What exactly did you hear?"

She smiled sheepishly, now feeling silly that she had overreacted. "I heard creaking. Like someone was walking around in there."

Derek crouched down to check on Emily. She was still sleeping soundly. "It was probably the house settling or the wind tugging at a loose shutter. This place is pretty old so I bet it makes a lot of different sounds."

"You're right. Sorry about that. I guess I let my imagination run away with me. This just reminds of those bad slasher movies where the killer is hiding in the house with his future victims." She let out a nervous laugh.

Reid frowned. "I never understood the concept of those films. If you know the killer who had murdered your friends was still in the house, why would you go back in? I would have been in the next county by then."

Derek shook his head in amusement. "Those movies aren't plot driven. Their purpose is to scare you and give you a reason to cuddle up with a sweet honey."

"Ew," JJ said with a roll of her eyes.

"Everything all right in here?" Hotch asked as he and Dave stepped into the room

"Everything is fine," JJ said a little too quickly, prompting Hotch to study her intently. Feeling the pressure of his intense gaze, she told the two older profilers what had happened.

Hotch nodded in understanding and dropped his eyes down to Emily. The injured agent was still sound asleep. "Did anyone find any trace of the partner?" he asked.

Derek and Reid shook their heads. "We looked in every room and closet and found nothing," Derek said.

"The only room upstairs that seems to be occupied was Mrs. Hanson's," Reid said. "There's no indication that another person was living here."

"She had packed away all of her husband's possessions and put the boxes in one of the spare bedrooms," Derek said.

"What about you guys?" JJ asked, turning to Hotch and Dave.

"Same here. Odds are that the partner must have fled when Hotch and Reid had gone down into the basement," Dave said. "And the snow has long covered up the footprints."

JJ rubbed her arms to warm them even though the room was nowhere cold. "So we're alone?" she asked, having difficulty accepting that there was no one else in the house with them.

"So it seems," Hotch said, eyes still on Emily. "Has she woken up?"

Fears forgotten, JJ knelt back down next to her best friend. "Briefly. She said she was thirsty so Reid and I got her some water."

"Was she able to keep it down?"

"Yes," she answered. "At least for now."

"We did run her through a cognitive test and Prentiss answered three of the four questions correctly."

Derek frowned and looked down at his partner in concern. "What did she miss?"

"It was more of a vision question than a memory one," he explained. "She said I had four fingers up when it was only three."

Hotch crossed his arms. "Has Prentiss said anything about what happened here?"

JJ shook her head. "No. Emily's confused to where she is and only complained about her shoulder."

"Those are all indicative of a severe concussion," Reid chimed in.

Hotch nodded. "With her confusion, I don't think it would be wise to leave her by herself. We don't want her to accidentally wander out into the blizzard."

Dave spoke up. "We should probably lock the doors and maybe barricade them. In her present condition, I doubt Prentiss will be able to figure out how to unlock them."

"Do it," Hotch told him. Dave nodded and grabbed Reid to help him.

"In the meantime," the Unit Chief continued, turning to Derek. "I would like you to do a cognitive interview with Prentiss when she wakes up."

JJ's eyebrows drew together. "Are you sure that is wise?"

Hotch surprised her by shrugging. "I'm not, but we need to know what happened here. Morgan, don't push her to remember. Just take it nice and slow with her. We don't need to know everything immediately. We can gently probe for more details every time she wakes. The most important thing is for Prentiss to tell it at her own pace; any signs of agitation, stop."

"You got it," Derek said and made himself more comfortable on the floor next to Emily's makeshift bed.

JJ, seeing that her best friend was in capable hands, stood up. "What should we do?"

"Let's see what food supplies we have," Hotch suggested. JJ nodded in agreement and the two headed for the kitchen.

* * *

Derek sat on the edge of the hearth and polished off the last of his dinner. It hadn't been a glamorous meal, just a grilled cheese sandwich and some soup, but it was enough to hit the spot and quiet his stomach. He and Emily were alone in the living room. The rest of the team was in the kitchen having their dinners. He glanced down at his partner. Emily appeared to be sleeping soundly even though every now and then she would roll her head to one side and mumble something indecipherable. Several times Derek had leaned in closer, hoping to be able to make out what she was saying, but to his ear it sounded like gibberish or one of the many languages she spoke fluently.

He was debating whether it was a good time to wake her when his watch made the decision for him by beeping its little head off. Derek quickly silenced the alarm and got off the hearth. He knelt next to Emily and gently shook her good shoulder.

"Prentiss, I need you to wake up," he said softly.

Emily shifted restlessly on the make shift bed and muttered something under her breath. Derek grinned, figuring she had probably just cussed him out in French.

Derek shook her shoulder a little harder. "Come on, Sleepyhead. Open your eyes. I want to see those beautiful brown eyes."

She groaned as her eyelids began to flutter. Slowly, Emily's eyes opened and he saw that they were filled with a small amount of pain and a large amount of confusion.

"Hey there," he said softly, greeting her with a tender smile.

She squinted against the perceived harsh light. "Morgan?" she asked in a tired voice.

"Yes, it's little ole me."

"Where am I?" Her frantic eyes took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Derek was pretty sure that she had asked that question before. Like Reid, he knew what the symptoms of a bad concussion were. "We're at the Hanson residence. You took a header down a flight of stairs and knocked yourself silly. Not that you weren't already silly," he teased; choosing to leave out that she took a croquet mallet to the head before the fall.

The joke went right over her concussed head. "I did?" she asked in confusion. "I…I don't remember."

"Just take my word that you did. Okay?"

Emily nodded then grimaced in pain. "My shoulder hurts," she complained.

"I know it does," he said in sympathy. "It was dislocated when you fell."

"Oh," she said, having no memory of the accident.

"I'll see if I can find some aspirin to help with the pain, but you need to eat something first. Can't have you taking the pills on an empty stomach."

"Not…hungry," Emily protested weakly. "Sleepy." Her eyes began to drift close.

Derek frowned and shook her shoulder. "You can sleep all you want after you had some dinner," he cajoled. "It's really good. JJ made tomato soup."

Emily's eyes reopened. "Fine," she grumbled in annoyance.

"Great," he said with a big smile. "Let's get you sitting up."

As gently as he could, Derek eased her into a sitting position. Again Emily squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of dizziness washed over her. He held on to her tightly and only eased up when he was sure it had passed.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Better," she said with a slight nod.

"Good."

Derek reached back to retrieve the mug of soup he had left warming by the fire, only to find it was now out of his reach. He realized he had to let go of Emily to get it. He took a deep breath, released his grip and was relieved that she had remained upright, though she was swaying slightly. He grabbed the mug and retreated back to her side.

He could see that his friend was expending an incredible amount of valuable energy to stay in a seated position. There had to be a way to make her comfortable while keeping her upright so that she could drink her soup without choking on it other than forcing her to get up and move to a chair. Then a thought occurred to him.

"This should work," he said to himself.

Derek set the mug down and moved the pillows off the makeshift bed. He sat down directly behind her, his long legs on either side of her like they were sitting on a toboggan. Taking great care not to jar her injured shoulder, Derek eased Emily back until she was using his broad chest as a backrest.

"Comfortable?" he asked when he was done.

"Yes," she agreed and leaned heavier into him. He could feel her relaxing.

Satisfied, Derek picked up the mug of warm tomato soup. JJ had warned him that Emily would attempt to take the mug from him and that he shouldn't trust her coordination. So he let her take it, but wrapped his hand around her shaky one to hold it steady. When the warm liquid hit Emily's stomach, she discovered she was ravenous and started to gulp it down.

Alarmed, he pulled the mug and her hand back. Emily protested. "Easy there, Speedy Gonzales," he cautioned. "Take small sips. I don't want you to get sick. Take your time and enjoy it."

She scowled and reluctantly nodded in agreement. Derek let her take the mug back. As Emily slowly sipped her soup, he tried to figure out the best way to question her about the events leading up to her assault without letting her know he was doing a cognitive interview. The last thing he wanted to do was to agitate her when she was in this condition.

"Say, Prentiss, what's the name of the deputy you drove out here with?" Derek casually asked. "I can't remember it."

Emily paused to dig through the wreckage of her mind to pull it out. "Arch…Archie Bennett."

 _Good_ , he thought. _She remembers coming out here._ "That's it. What did the two of you talk about?"

"Martha Hanson."

"Oh? Like what?"

Emily squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to remember. "Hus…husband dead. No children. Uh…didn't drive. Never…left the house."

"A recluse?" he asked.

"Yeah," she agreed, reopening her eyes.

"So what was your first impression when you got there?"

She let her tired eyes drift over to the window and watched the snow blowing up against it. She was memorized. "Snowing," she marveled.

Derek glanced over. "That it is," he agreed. "It's a blizzard out there."

"Can we…make a snowman?"

He chuckled. "Maybe later when you are feeling better." Emily grunted in disappointment. He had to get her back on track before she grew too tired to answer any more questions. "Prentiss, what did you think when you got here?"

"Uh…house looked abandoned. Thought porch…rotten," she said, seeing in her mind the vague shape of the deputy mounting the rickety steps.

"But it wasn't."

"No. He didn't fa…fall through."

"Then what did you do?"

"Umm…knocked. No answer."

"And then?" he prompted softly.

"Little Archie said we could go in."

Derek's eyebrows shot up and he mouthed _Little Archie_? He shook his head in confusion and decided not to follow up on that for now. He'll clear that interesting tidbit up when she was more lucid.

"So you went inside to look for Martha Hanson?" he probed.

Emily nodded. "Yeah. He went…upstairs."

"And you?"

"The living room." She took a closer look at her surroundings. "Here," she whispered.

 _So they split up_ , he thought. No big deal. They didn't think they were in any danger. They were here; well Emily was, to interview a potential witness. "So what happened next?"

Derek had thought it was a rather innocent sounding question so he was surprised when she stiffened in his arms. He couldn't see her face, but he guessed it had that closed off look she got when she was uncomfortable discussing something. "Prentiss?"

Emily stared at the mug in her hand. Her injured shoulder started to ache from the tension that was suddenly filling her body. She tried rolling it, but the movement sent a sharp pain coursing down her arm. Involuntarily she clenched her teeth and hissed in pain.

"You okay?" he asked in concern.

"Don't want to talk anymore," she said plaintively.

Derek knew he had pushed her as far as she was willing to go for the moment. He was satisfied with the progress they had made so far. What Emily had revealed wasn't much, but it was more than he had started with. He would let her get some sleep and try again later when she was more rested.

"Sure. No problem," he reassured her. "We can just hang out if you want." She nodded and he felt some of the tension in her melt away as she sagged against him, obviously exhausted from staying awake and talking to him.

Reid chose that particular moment to grace them with his presence. "Hey!" he said brightly, an orange Popsicle in one hand. If he had noticed their odd seating arrangement, he made no mention of it.

Derek eyed the frozen treat in his hand. "Seriously, Kid? You're eating a Popsicle when it is below freezing outside?"

The young genius shrugged. "After the hot soup I wanted something cold."

Emily perked up in his arms. "Popsicle?" she asked in interest.

The dark agent chuckled. "Does that mean you want one?" he asked her.

"Yes."

He tilted the mug they were both holding to take a peek inside. "You still have some soup left. You finish it off and the kid here will get you one. Right, Kid?"

"Right," Reid agreed.

"Okay," she said grudgingly and raised the mug to her lips.

"Remember, Prentiss. No gulping, small sips. If you get sick, you'll throw up over both of us and neither of us will be happy campers."

Reid wrinkled his nose at the image now stuck in his head. "Thanks a lot for that."

With Emily intent on finishing her dinner, Derek turned his attention to the young man.

"I know they don't recommend giving any medications to a concussed person before they see a doctor. But is there anything we can safely give her for the pain? I think her shoulder is really hurting because she complained about it."

Reid scratched thoughtfully under his chin. "They don't recommend aspirin or ibuprofen because they could make any possible inter-cranial bleeding worse." He paused to think some more. "But I do believe it is safe to administer Tylenol."

He scurried over to the first aid kit and rummaged through its contents, eventually pulling out a small packet. "These should do nicely," he announced, tearing it open and shaking two caplets into the palm of his hand. "They won't knock out the pain completely, but they should dull it enough for Emily to rest more comfortably."

"Just what the doctor ordered." Derek exchanged that now empty soup mug for the glass of water that was nearby. He took the pills from Reid and held both out in front of Emily. "I've got you something to help with the pain."

Emily glared at the two caplets. "I don't want them," she decided and pushed his hand away.

Derek leaned in and whispered in her ear. Emily's frown deepened, irritating the laceration on her forehead. "Fine," she grumbled.

"Thank you," he said. He handed her the pills and held the glass steady while she took a long drink to wash them down. Emily closed her eyes with a sigh.

Reid was curious. "What did you say to her?"

Derek smiled. "I told her the Tylenol would make her shoulder feel better. And," he paused dramatically; "I told her that she wouldn't get her Popsicle if she didn't take her pills."

The young agent's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You bribed her?" he squeaked in surprise.

He shrugged. "It got the job done." Derek gave Emily a slight shake. "Hey, Sleepyhead. What flavor do you want? Orange, grape, cherry or lime?"

"Grape," she mumbled.

"You've got it." Derek looked up at Reid and jerked his head at the doorway. "You heard her, Reid. Prentiss want a grape Popsicle."

"Uh…right," he stammered and hurried off to do his injured friend's bidding.

* * *

 _There you go. I hoped you enjoyed it. See everyone next week. Until then._


	6. Chapter 6

While Derek kept an eye on Emily, the rest of the team had gathered around the kitchen table to eat the grilled cheese and soup JJ had managed to pull together.

Hotch tossed his napkin on his empty plate. "Let's review what we know so far," he said. "We now have four victims: three men and one woman. All had been gutted and their organs removed."

"Which were then dissected," Dave added.

"We didn't know that at the time," Reid countered. "All we knew was that they were missing when the bodies were found. We had assumed the UnSub had kept them as trophies or was eating them." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"They were more violent with the woman," JJ said. "In addition to being cut open she had been beaten and suffered multiple fractures. They spent more time with her. Played with her."

She closed her eyes briefly at the thought of how close Emily had come to suffering the same fate. The image of her battered and broken flashed unbidden into her mind. JJ gave her head a small shake to dispel the picture. When she reopened them she could see the rest had been thinking the same thing.

"The UnSub was sadistic. She enjoyed prolonging the pain," Dave said.

Reid frowned. "We're not even sure if Martha Hanson did the actual killing. It could have easily been her partner. It takes a lot of strength to break through bone to get to the organs."

"Agreed," Hotch said. "We need to know more about her." He pulled out his phone, hit the speed dial button for Penelope and put it on speaker as he set it down in the center of the table so that everyone could listen in.

" _How's Em?"_ were the first words out of her mouth when she came on the line.

From the moment Derek had called to inform her of the attack on Emily, she had been nothing but a raw bundle of nerves. All she could do was to think about her injured friend. She always hated the idea of one of her chicks getting hurt in the line of duty even though it was the nature of the job. If she could wrap all of them in bubble wrap before they left for a case, she would. Penelope knew it wasn't feasible, but it was still a nice thought.

"She seems to be doing fine. She's resting at the moment."

" _I can come out there if you want,"_ she quickly offered. _"I can be on the first flight to New Hampshire."_

"The blizzard has shut down all the airports, Garcia. It could be days before regular flights resume. It would be better if you remained in DC for now."

" _Oh…okay,"_ she said, trying to mask her disappointment. She had been so focused on Emily that she had forgotten they were snowed in at the crime scene.

"But when the airports reopen you can come," Hotch added. He knew the analyst wouldn't stop worrying until she saw Emily with her own eyes. "I have no doubt Prentiss will be spending a couple of days in the hospital after we get dug out."

" _You can bet on that,"_ she agreed, slightly mollified. _"So what do you need me to do?"_

"We need everything you can dig up on Martha Hanson."

" _The looney that tried to go all stabbie with you?"_

"The one and only," Hotch said, trying to keep his lips from forming a smile.

" _Let's see what we have here,"_ she mused. The sound of typing echoed over the line.

 _"Martha Hansen nee Johnson was born in 1941. She married her husband in 1962 and they were together for forty years until he died of lung cancer last year."_

"Any children?" Reid asked.

 _"None."_

"What about spending? Did she frequent any of the places our victims were last seen?" JJ inquired.

Penelope continued typing. _"That would be a big fat no,"_ she finally said. _"According to her financials, she didn't go anywhere. Not even to the store. It looks like she had her groceries delivered weekly."_

"So basically she's been a recluse since her husband died," Reid mused.

"So it would seem and probably lonely," Dave replied.

Needing something to occupy her hands, JJ got up from the table and started to gather up the dirty dishes. "If she never left the house then how did she meet up with her partner?"

"Another good question," Dave said and the rest nodded in agreement.

They all fell silent as they tried to come up with a reasonable answer. _"Maybe he was looking for work?"_ Penelope said absentmindedly as she stared at her monitors.

Hotch sat up straighter in his chair. "What was that, Garcia?"

 _"Oh…um…I was just thinking since the property was rather large and she might need help taking care of it."_

JJ stopped what she was doing and leaned against the sink. "She hired a handyman," she said excitedly. "And to do that she would have to—"

" _Place an ad for help in the paper or on a bulletin board in different stores,"_ Penelope finished for her. _"I can check the classifieds of the local newspaper."_

"Go back at least a year," Hotch suggested. "She might have advertised for help shortly after her husband's death."

"Will do. I'll be back as soon as I can. This might take me awhile."

Hotch glanced at the clock on the wall. "Actually it can wait until tomorrow. Why don't you go home and get some rest, Garcia."

" _But, Sir,"_ she protested.

"There's no hurry for the information. Our UnSub is dead and her partner is long gone. This is only going to tell us how they met. It's not going to give us the identity of the partner."

Penelope sighed. _"Yes, Sir. I'll talk to you guys in the morning,"_ she said and hung up.

"Do you think she'll go home," Dave asked with a smirk.

"Not immediately," Hotch said with a tiny smile. "She'll stay until the search is done."

At that point, Reid got up and went over to the refrigerator and eventually dug out a Popsicle from the freezer. With dessert in hand he went to check on Derek and Emily. Since there was nothing else they could do until Penelope called with her results, besides rehashing it to death, the two men helped JJ clean up the kitchen. Even though they knew the woman who owned the place was dead, they still couldn't leave the room in a mess. While they were working, Reid wandered back in, fished a second Popsicle out of the freezer, purple this time and wandered back out with one in each hand. The three looked at each other, shrugged and chalked the Popsicle obsession as another one of the young doctor's quirks.

* * *

When Hotch, Dave and JJ adjourned to the living room they were greeted by a rather odd looking scene. Derek was sitting directly behind Emily and she was leaning back against his chest apparently asleep. In one hand he held the half eaten purple Popsicle.

"She just fell asleep halfway through her dessert," he explained with a smile, dropping it in the empty soup mug.

JJ settled on the hearth. "Did you get her to eat?"

"I did. She drank the entire mug of soup and I got Emily to take a couple of Tylenol for the pain in her shoulder. She complained about it hurting."

"How did you ever get her to do that?" she asked in curiosity. She knew her friend didn't like to take meds, preferring to muscle through the pain.

"Morgan bribed her," Reid chimed in.

"What?"

Derek shot the young genius an annoyed look. "I didn't exactly bribe her. I just simply suggested that if she wanted a Popsicle she had to take her pills."

"According to the Webster dictionary a bribe is defined as a gift or promise given unethically in return for a favor."

"Fine! It was a bribe," he huffed, continuing to glare at Reid who smiled innocently. "But it got Emily to take her meds and I will gladly do it again."

Ignoring the chuckling going on around him, Derek turned to JJ. "Can you help me get Sleeping Beauty back to bed? She's getting heavier and my legs are going numb from sitting this way too long."

"Sure," she agreed as another round of chuckling erupted.

Between the two of them, they managed to ease Emily back down onto the makeshift bed and tucked snugly beneath the blankets without waking her. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when it was over and sat down wherever they could find a place to sit while Derek added a few more logs to the fire.

"Morgan, were you able to learn anything from Prentiss?" Hotch asked after the dark agent resumed his seat on the hearth next to JJ.

"A little," he answered. "She remembers arriving with Deputy Bennett. She said they knocked and when there was no answer, the deputy said it was all right for them to enter. They split up to look for her. Bennett went upstairs while she checked out this room."

"And?"

Derek glanced down at his slumbering friend. "When I asked what happened next, Prentiss tensed up and said she didn't want to talk anymore. I didn't push her because she was in pain and I didn't want to agitate her."

"Sounds like Emily doesn't remember the rest," JJ observed.

"Or at this time she doesn't want to remember," Dave pointed out.

"Either way," Hotch interjected. "There's no hurry to get all the answers tonight. We have a start. We'll let her sleep for the rest of the night and Morgan; you can give it another try tomorrow. Prentiss may be more lucid in the morning."

From there, the conversation switched to setting up shifts to keep an eye on Emily throughout the night. Her concussion still required close monitoring meaning they had to continue to wake her every two hours to make sure she didn't slip into a coma. They also knew that if she remembered being awakened, Emily was going to be downright cranky by morning. Nobody likes having his or her sleep constantly disturbed.

For the next few hours before turning in, they relaxed by playing cards with the deck Reid had in his satchel and talking about everything except the case and Emily's assault. Eventually the yawns outnumbered the words and they scattered about the room to sleep with the extra pillows and blankets JJ had gathered earlier. They could have easily used the other rooms in the house to sleep in, but none wanted to be too far way from Emily and the comforting warmth of the fire. With the light from the dancing flames illuminating the living room, all except for Hotch, who had the first shift, rolled up in their blankets and went to sleep praying for an end to the snowstorm.

* * *

Reid shifted in his chair; angling the book he had found to better capture the light from the fire. It was three o'clock in the morning and the storm was still raging outside, the wind howling down the chimney and slamming the snow against the windows.

Forty-five minutes earlier he had briefly woken Emily and, as predicted, she hadn't been a happy camper. He had been pretty sure she had cussed at him and had been rather put out when he had made her answer a few simple questions before letting her go back to sleep. Emily had answered all of them correctly so Reid could relax for the rest of his shift and enjoy the book.

Thump!

He jumped in fright. "What the heck was that?" he squeaked, eyes snapping up from the book he was reading to frantically scan the room.

Nothing seemed out of place. He cocked his head to one side, breath held and listened, waiting, but really hoping it wouldn't repeat itself. After a few minutes of silence, Reid let out a nervous chuckle.

"It was probably a broken limb that struck the house." But he couldn't remember if there were any trees nearby. "Or like Morgan told JJ, the house was settling or the wind tugging at a shutter."

"Yeah, that's it," he declared, trying to convince himself of its truth. "It's just the wind—"

Thump! Creak. Creak. Squeeaak!

Reid's eyes darted to the ceiling. That wasn't the wind. There was someone walking around up there. A quick sweep of the room told him everyone was present and accounted for. He leapt up with every intention of alerting Hotch about the possible intruder, but before he took two steps, he hesitated. If he woke his boss up and it turned out to be nothing, he would never hear the end of it from Derek. Reid pivoted on his heels and went to the one person who would never tease him…too much.

He dropped to his knees next to the couch. "JJ, wake up," he whispered, shaking her arm.

JJ bolted upright, instantly awake. "Spence? What's wrong? Is it Emily?" Her eyes automatically went to her injured friend.

"Emily's fine," he quickly reassured her.

"Then why—"

"I think there is someone upstairs. I swear I heard footsteps."

"It was probably one of the guys," JJ said with a yawn, getting ready to roll over and go back to sleep.

"It's not," he said in an insistent whisper. "Everyone was down here when I heard the noise."

"Spence, you know we searched the house from top to bottom. Nobody's here except for us."

His eyes went to the ceiling. "I know, JJ, but I heard it. Please check it out with me. I didn't want to wake Hotch if it turns out to be a figment of my imagination."

She arched an amused eyebrow. "So you woke me instead." _Because you knew I wouldn't tease you unmercifully like Derek would,_ she silently added.

"Yeah," he agreed with a sheepish smile.

"Fine," she said, throwing back the blanket. It was only fair given how she had reacted earlier when she had sworn she had heard creaking coming from the dining room. This house seemed to be breeding paranoia. "I'll go, but I can't wait to say I told you so and get back to sleep."

"I hope you do, JJ. Thank you so much. I'll make it up to you."

JJ grinned. "You might end up regretting that offer." Reid swallowed hard thinking the same thing.

* * *

On quiet feet the two slipped out of the room and up the stairs. As a precaution they had their weapons drawn, but had them pointed at the ground. At the top they paused and looked around the landing.

"Which room?" JJ asked in a hushed tone.

Reid pointed to the half open door to their left. "That one," he whispered. "It's directly over the living room."

She nodded and took point with Reid almost standing on top of her. After the debacle with Hankel, he always made sure he wasn't far from her. When she felt his breathe on her neck, JJ reached behind her and gently pushed him back a foot.

"Sorry," he apologized, blushing slightly.

"It's okay."

With her gun leading the way, JJ nudged the door open with her foot and quickly shifted around to check behind it. Reid slid in on her heels and went to the left. They met in the center of the room holstering their weapons and saying clear at the same time. The two agents found themselves standing in what appeared to be the late Martha Hanson's bedroom with his and her dressers and the traditional double bed covered a patchwork quilt. Like the rest of the house, the room was immaculate and not a single item out of place.

"Nobody's here, Spence."

"Then what was making the noise?" Reid wasn't quite ready to let the intruder idea go since they knew the dead UnSub had a partner.

"Like Morgan said, it's an old house and old houses make noises especially during a storm." It sounded perfectly reasonable to JJ. The last thing she wanted was to be drawn into Reid's paranoia.

THUMP!

Reid and JJ nearly jumped out of their skins. Hearts in throats, they spun around just in time to see one of the inner wooden shutters slowly being sucked back to the partially open window. Creak!

JJ let out a relieved shaky laugh. "There's your mystery person," she said, going over to close the window and latch the shutter. "The wind blew the shutter open, banging it against the wall and what you thought were creaking floorboards was the shutter's squeaky hinges."

Reid was just as relieved as she was and very happy he hadn't dragged Hotch on this wild goose chase. But best of all, the explanation was logical: the wind strength, the pressure in the room and the air current between the open window and door. That he could understand; supernatural stuff he couldn't.

"That's great."

"Then let's head back down and get some sleep."

Even though he now knew the source of the noise was Reid still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. He touched her arm. "Uh…JJ? Could we check the other rooms first?"

JJ really wanted to go back to bed, but she could see the worry in his eyes. She knew he wouldn't be able to relax until all the bases were covered.

"Sure," she agreed, suppressing a yawn.

The duo made short work of the remaining rooms and, as an afterthought, the attic.

"Satisfied?" JJ asked as they adjourned to the landing.

"Yes. Thanks again for doing this, JJ. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome." A sly smile came to her lips. "Do you know where Dulcinea's is?"

Reid blinked at the sudden change in subject. "Uh…yeah. They sell French pasties I believe."

"Sinfully delicious pastries," she said with a dreamy look. "That's how you're going to make it up to me. For two weeks after Emily returns to work you are going to treat us ladies to a different fresh pastry."

"But Dulcinea's is on the opposite side of the district," he protested.

"I know."

"It will double my commute in the morning."

"Reid, you said you'll make it up to me," JJ pointed out.

He sighed. "I did and I always keep my word. What time do they open?"

"Seven a.m."

Reid sighed again. It was going to be a long two weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

With a sleepy yawn, JJ stretched and slowly opened her eyes. It took her a minute to remember that she had spent the night on the couch in the late Martha Hanson's living room. She sat up and looked around the room. It didn't appear that anyone else was awake and that included Dave who was supposed to be watching Emily. The older man sat sleeping in the armchair drawn close to the makeshift bed with his chin resting in the palm of his hand and snoring lightly. JJ didn't blame him because when it had been her turn, she had struggled to keep her eyes open and still nodded off several times. Reid, it turned out, didn't have that difficulty. He simply read or ran statistics and probabilities through his head. If JJ had tried that she would have been out cold in thirty seconds.

Getting up, she thought she would get a head start on finding what was available for breakfast. She shivered in the coolness of the room and padded over to the fireplace to toss on a couple of logs. A quick check on Emily told her that her friend was resting comfortably and hadn't started running a fever overnight. As she tenderly adjusted the blankets, she made a mental note to clean and change the bandage on the wound to her forehead. A peek out the window to check on the snow confirmed the storm hadn't abated and that the odds were good that they were going to be stranded here for another day.

After a minor detour to the bathroom, JJ went into the kitchen to see what she could scrounge up, and the only thing she managed to come up with right away was a sigh. "Men are disgusting," she muttered as she took in the mess.

One of the guys must have gotten hungry overnight and decided to make a midnight snack apparently without bothering to turn on the lights. With it, they decided to leave the mess out for the next person to take care of, and that happened to be her. Smears of peanut butter and jelly were left on the counter where a butter knife was haphazardly tossed and the bread was left unopened. Breadcrumbs littered the table and were mixed in with the milk from the tipped over glass.

"Clearly whoever he is, his mother didn't teach him any manners," she huffed as she grabbed some paper towels and got cleaning.

As she mopped up the mess, JJ considered giving the slob a piece of her mind, but decided in the end to let it go and not waste her breath. But if it happened again, she was going to ream them up one side and down the other and then make them clean it up. They weren't going to like being in her doghouse. Ten minutes later she was done and she could finally turn her attention to breakfast.

At first she considered making bacon and eggs for everyone because there was plenty of those in the fridge, but she wasn't sure if Emily should or was capable of eating solid foods. Plus it they ended up eating with her, it wouldn't be fair that she couldn't have any while everyone else could. So in the end she settled on a large pot of oatmeal and orange juice. Emily's portion she would add extra milk to make it thinner and easier for her to consume.

The smell of food cooking aroused the men and brought them wandering into the kitchen with mussed hair, wrinkled clothes and sleep crusted eyes. JJ couldn't help, but give each the evil eye as she handed them an empty bowl. Derek grabbed his and the one specially prepared for Emily and hurried back to her side. Reid wanted to immediately follow, but Hotch suggested they give him a few minutes to wake her and get her situated before they rejoined them. He wasn't happy about it, but was somewhat mollified when Hotch let him deliver their glasses of orange juice.

* * *

Derek set the bowls of oatmeal on the hearth and then crouched next to Emily. He shook her shoulder gently. "Rise and shine, Sleepyhead. It's morning and I have breakfast," he said lightly.

Emily's hand snaked out from under the blanket and weakly pushed his away. "Go away," she grumbled with her eyes still closed. "Sleeping."

He chuckled. "So not happening, Prentiss. I'm just going to sit here poking you every few minutes until you join me for breakfast. It's up to you."

With a huff of annoyance, the same one she gave everyone when they had woke her during the night, Emily slowly opened her eyes and gave him one of her patented glares. Derek could see they were still clouded by confusion and irritability, but not as much as yesterday. All the sleep was doing her a world of good.

"Let's get you sitting up." He slid an arm beneath her shoulders.

"I can do it," she groused.

He backed off and allowed her to try anyway, but when she struggled and sighed he took that as permission to help her up. He held on to her as a wave of dizziness washed over her. "All set," he told her once it had passed.

"Thanks," she mumbled sheepishly. Even in her state, she hated relying on people. At least it was a sign she was doing a little better.

"So how do you want to do this? Stay here and use me as a backrest again? Or do you want to try to get up and sit in one of the chairs?"

"Chair," she stated simply.

Derek was hoping she chose to stay put, but he knew she was a stubborn as a mule and would want to do things her way busted head or not.

"Alright," he nodded and went to help her, draping her good arm over his shoulder.

Moving slowly and handling her with care, he guided her wobbly steps over to the couch where he thought she would be more comfortable. He got her settled, laid the blanket JJ had been using over her legs and set a pillow in her lap to serve as a tray for the bowl. He retrieved their breakfast from the hearth and sat next to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, ignoring her fidgeting from his fussing.

"Okay," she answered. "Head pounding. Shoulder aches, but better."

"After you eat I'll get you a couple more Tylenol for the pain. Need an extra hand?" he asked, watching her reach for the spoon with a shaky hand.

"No," Emily insisted. There was no way in hell she was going to let him spoon-fed her like a baby. She had to maintain her dignity. "I can do it."

She was going to try at least and he wasn't going to fight her on it. He would see what happened. Resisting the urge to tuck a napkin under her chin, Derek dug into his oatmeal. His eyebrows shot up. JJ knew how to make some damn fine oatmeal. His taste buds detected a hint of brown sugar and cinnamon. He only stopped eating long enough to accept the glasses of orange juice from Reid.

A few minutes later the rest joined the two and scattered about the living room. As they enjoyed their delicious breakfast, none could help but cast surreptitious glances in Emily's direction. It was good to see her sitting up and appearing to be more lucid than last night, but they were still worried about her. They could see the paleness of her skin, the tiredness in her eyes and the unconscious wincing that told them she was still in some pain. Emily was looking better, but she wasn't out of the woods yet. She still needed a hospital.

When Derek finished eating, he grabbed two Tylenols out of the first aid kit and held them out for Emily to take with her orange juice. "I'm not taking no for answer," he said when he saw her opening her mouth to refuse.

Emily snapped it closed, glared at him as she took the proffered pills and downed them with a big gulp of juice.

"Thank you."

"Uh huh," she grumbled and returned her focus to eating her oatmeal without spilling a drop all over her because of her shaking hand.

Seeing the considerable amount of effort Emily was putting into eating, Derek decided to hold off on continuing the cognitive interview until she was finished and be more focused on the questions. Also doing it with the rest of the team present saved him from having to repeat it later.

"Emily, you up for some questions?" he asked after she had finished the last of her oatmeal.

"I guess so," she answered uncertainly.

Derek could see the weariness in her eyes. The simple act of eating had sapped what little energy she had so he would try to keep the interview short and sweet.

"Last night you told me that you and Deputy Bennett split up to look for Martha Hanson."

Emily frowned in confusion. "I did?"

"You did," he confirmed. "The blow to your noggin and the fall down the stairs scrambled your brain pretty good."

"Oh," she said slowly, unsettled by the obvious gaps in her memory. "I…I don't remember that."

"Memory loss is one of the symptoms of a concussion," Reid piped up, "Along with nausea, irritability, dizzi…oomph!"

JJ elbowed him in the ribs. "Reid, Emily knows the signs of a concussion. This isn't her first rodeo."

"I was just trying to point out that people suffering a concussion don't realize they had sustained one. And exactly what does 'this isn't her first rodeo' mean? It's obvious we're not at a rodeo. That would require horses and cows…"

"Do you want to make it three weeks of pastry duty?" she hedged. Reid shut up and everyone chuckled including Emily, though hers was weaker sounding because of the pounding headache.

Derek had to get this interview back on track before Emily grew too tired to answer. "Emily, did anything happen after the two of you split up?"

Emily leaned her head against the back of the couch and let her gaze drift to the window, watching the swirling snow or so it seemed. In actuality her vision was turned inward as she tried to remember. The little man using her head as a drum was making it difficult to think.

"I heard a loud noise from above like something fell."

"And what did you do?"

"I…I drew my gun and went upstairs to investigate."

"What did you find?"

"Deputy Bennett was unconscious on the floor."

"Do you know how it happened?"

She shook her head, instantly regretting it. "No. Was just relieved he was alive." Unconsciously she began rubbing her injured shoulder, growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

They were all curious to how she ended up falling down the stairs so Derek tried to gently steer her in that direction. "What were you planning on doing next?"

"I was going to call for help when I heard a sound coming from the hallway. I was afraid whomever attacked him was still in the house."

"So you went back out into the hallway?"

"Yeah," Emily agreed with a small nod. "I thought I saw the door by the stairs move. I cautiously approached." Her hand stopped its rubbing to reach out for an imaginary door. "I was reaching for the doorknob when…"

Everyone in the room leaned forward. "When what?" Derek gently pressed.

Emily resumed rubbing her shoulder. "When I sensed I wasn't alone, I turned and…and then my head exploded and I felt like I was falling."

"And when you reached the bottom of the stairs?"

Her body stiffened with tension. "I…I don't remember," she said, closing her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at them.

Hotch gestured for Derek to wrap it up. From where he was sitting he could see the questioning was taking a toll on Emily physically and mentally.

Derek nodded that he understood. "No problem. It's probably best that we stop here if that is okay with you."

"Yeah. Tired."

"Do you want me to help you back to bed or stay put?"

Emily opened her eyes and gave him a wan smile. "If you don't mind I would like to stay here."

"That's fine with me."

He removed the empty bowl and pillow before taking the blanket that was draped over her legs and using it to cover her body. Derek took great care to make sure it was drawn over her injured shoulder because he didn't want her to catch a chill from this old drafty house. The last thing she needed was a cold to go along with the concussion and the dislocated shoulder. Emily wearily nodded her thanks before closing her eyes again and drifting off to sleep.

The team waited until they were sure she was sound asleep before speaking. "Now we have a clearer picture of what happened to Emily and Deputy Bennett," JJ said.

Reid nodded enthusiastically from his seat next to her. "Indeed we do. Martha Hanson or her partner ambushed the deputy and then waited for Emily to come upstairs to investigate."

"Or they didn't know she was there," Dave countered. "Her sudden appearance at the top of the stairs could have startled them causing them to try to take Prentiss out with a croquet mallet."

"Good thing she's got a hard head," Derek said, looking at his slumbering partner. "She's going to blame herself when she learns of Bennett's death even though there was nothing she could do to stop it."

Hotch was also gazing at her. "We definitely knew more than we did last night, but there's still something she isn't ready to tell us yet. You all saw how uncomfortable Prentiss became when she was asked what happened after the fall."

Most of the team nodded though JJ decided to act as the devil's advocate. "But Emily could genuinely not remember. Most accident victims either remember all or nothing of the event."

"That is also true," he agreed. "We'll let her rest and try again later. In the meantime let me check in with Sheriff Holmes and see what the ETA is for getting us out of here."

He stood up, pulled out his cell phone and stepped out of the room to make the call. The rest chatted amongst themselves while they waited for the Unit Chief to return and it didn't take long for him to. Within minutes Hotch reentered with a grim look on his face.

"That doesn't look good," Dave observed dryly.

Hotch resumed his seat. "According to the sheriff the snowstorm should be out of the area by this evening and it's going to take all night for the plows to catch up. He estimates getting to us sometime tomorrow afternoon, hopefully sooner."

"We're stuck here for another day?" JJ asked. She didn't know about the rest of them, but this house was giving her the creeps. "He does know about Emily, right?"

"He does and we're high on his list of priorities. But I did caution him not to get anyone killed trying to get to us since Prentiss is holding her own."

"Well since we'll be spending another night at this oh so lovely hideaway I think we should consider moving…" Dave paused and glanced at Emily and said in a lower voice, "the bodies outside. They're going to start to get ripe and it won't be pretty in here after awhile. The snow and the cold should preserve them until the coroner can collect them."

"Good idea," Hotch agreed. "You, Morgan and I can handle that."

"I'll stay with Emily," JJ quickly volunteered. Dealing with dead bodies wasn't her thing. She much preferred the living.

"What about me?" Reid eagerly asked.

Hotch eyed the young genius' thin frame dubiously. He didn't look strong enough to pick up a forty-pound bag of birdseed, let alone the dead weight of a dead body.

"Why don't you stay here, Reid, and if we find we need more help we'll call."

"Okay," he agreed, masking his disappointment.

Hotch's words sent him back to grade school, back to feeling like the scrawny little kid everyone saw him as. He couldn't count the number of times he hadn't been asked to play games in school or join in a pick-up game. And now his boss made him feel like that. Once again he was asked to set this one out, chosen last or not chosen.

As the three men trooped off to the basement to do the unsavory job of body removal, JJ nudged Reid gently in the ribs. She could always read him like a book and could tell he was upset that Hotch hadn't included him.

"Which would you rather do? Wrestle a dead, heavy body up those rickety stairs and out into the storm or stay where it's nice and warm and hang out with me and Emily?"

JJ always knew how to make him feel better. "You and Emily," he said with a shy smile.

She returned the smile with a broader one. "I was hoping you would say that. You can help me carry the dirty dishes back to the kitchen."

"Sure," Reid agreed and JJ quickly loaded his arms up with the bowls while she collected the glasses.

In the kitchen he piled them next to the sink and then helped her with the glasses. "Do you need help?"

JJ shook her head as she studied the mess she had made. "No, I think I've got this, Spence. One of us should probably stay with Emily."

"You're probably right," he said with a sigh.

As he walked back to the living room, for a brief moment, Reid felt the disappointment return. Apparently he wasn't good at heavy lifting or helping in the kitchen, but, he paused in the doorway to look at Emily sleeping on the couch, at least he was good enough for her. It turned out that he had the most important job of all. He was making sure she stayed okay, and he was happy with that.


	8. Chapter 8

Not long after Reid had settled on the couch Emily began to stir. She shifted restlessly under the blanket, letting out soft moans. Worried that something serious was wrong with her, he sat up straighter and gently touched her the shoulder.

"Emily, wake up. Is there something wrong?"

Emily's eyes slowly opened and she looked around, blinking in confusion. Then they fell on him, filling with recognition. "Hey, Reid," she greeted with a weak smile.

Relief flooded through him. She had recognized him without any hesitation, which indicated she was starting to recover from her head injury. "Hey, Emily. Are you okay? You were moaning in your sleep."

"I was?"

"Yeah, you were. Is something hurting? I can get something for the pain if there is."

"Yes…no…somewhat," she answered indecisively.

He smiled. "You got to pick one."

"I got to pee," Emily declared.

"You what?" he squeaked, unsure that he had heard her correctly.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she repeated.

"Oh…that's what I thought you said," he stammered lamely, a flush coming to his neck and cheeks. The mere thought of helping her do something so…so personal was unsettling to say the least.

"I'll get JJ." Reid shot to his feet, startling her. He waved at the couch. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," he advised and rushed from the room.

"JJ?" Emily frowned in puzzlement. "I don't need her help to go to the bathroom," she huffed. "I can do it by myself."

Emily threw off the blanket, braced her good hand against the couch cushion and pushed up. Immediately the room tilted and a wave of nausea washed over her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she swallowed hard to avoid throwing up her breakfast, sagging back down and rested her head against the back of couch waiting for it to pass.

"Maybe I'll just wait for JJ after all."

* * *

Reid burst into the kitchen. "JJ, Emily needs to use the bathroom."

JJ, startled by his sudden appearance, nearly dropped the bowl she was cleaning. She turned around intending on scolding him for entering without knocking first to announce his presence, but saw the redness of embarrassment coloring his face. Smiling she returned to the dishes planning to tease him a little.

"So help her. I'm a little busy."

"But…but I can't," he stammered. "I'm a…"

"You're a what?"

"I'm a guy and Emily's…she's…she's…"

JJ faced him with her arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Emily's a girl. So?"

"So…she's a _girl_ ," Reid poorly reiterated the point.

"Oh, a _girl_!" She slapped her forehead. "How could I miss that?"

"JJ," he sighed in exasperation.

"Spence, relax," she said with a light laugh. "It's not like you're getting her naked. You're just helping her to the bathroom."

"But…she's…"

"I know. I know. Emily's a girl. Well, you're a big boy. I think you can handle it."

"But…but what if she needs…you know…help?" His voice cracked.

"Then you help her."

"But…but…" he stammered again. "I can't do that. She's Emily."

JJ almost laughed at his boyish innocence. "It's not like you've never seen…" His look was enough to stop her. He looked terrified at the idea and she took pity on him. She rested a hand on his arm. "Okay, Reid. If she's in need of that kind of help, call me and I'll come help her."

"Thanks, JJ," he smiled in relief. He would have preferred her handling the whole awkward situation, but he guess he could handle escorting Emily to the bathroom.

* * *

When Reid reentered the living room Emily was again attempting to stand. "Emily! What do you think you are doing?" He exclaimed, rushing to get side and catching her just as her knees buckled.

"Going to the bathroom."

"I told you I'd be right back."

"I can do it myself," Emily grumbled, irritated and frustrated that she couldn't stand without the room going all wonky on her and making her sick to her stomach.

"Right," he drawled, draping her arm over his shoulders and wrapping his around her waist. "If I hadn't come in when I had, you would've fallen flat on your face and possibly re-injured your shoulder."

"Would not," she retorted, focusing all of her attention on keeping her feet moving and under her. When did walking become so hard?

"Would too," he playfully countered as he helped her to the small bathroom off the kitchen.

The moment he had seen her swaying on her feet seconds from collapsing, all his fears and embarrassment vanished. Emily needed his help, even if she didn't think she needed any, and he was now calm, focused and supportive. He could handle anything even...oh god...even that.

Emily glanced at him frowning in puzzlement. "Reid, why are you blushing like a schoolgirl?"

* * *

Down in the basement the three men were reluctant to start their grisly task. The temperature was cooler down there, but it wasn't cold enough to slow the process of decomposition. Already there was an odor of death hanging in the air and if they didn't do something about it, it would soon be unbearable. The last thing they wanted was the smell to permeate the upstairs.

"How do you want to do this?" Derek asked, making a soft retching noise in the back of his throat.

"As quickly as possible," Dave quipped.

Hotch resisted the urge to pinch his nose shut and focused on breathing through his mouth. Normally he didn't have any problem with the smell of decay because the morgues had great ventilation systems that kept it down to a tolerable level. That wasn't the case here.

"First of all, let's open the windows to get some air in here," he suggested.

Derek jumped to it and opened the two small windows. Now instead of the sweet, sickly smell just hanging there, it swirled around them from the cross ventilation.

"Much better," Dave commented, waving a hand in front of his face.

The Unit Chief snorted in amusement. "I don't like disturbing a crime scene, but we have no choice. So let's try to touch as little as possible and photograph everything. We're going to need it once the partner is identified and caught."

The other agents nodded in agreement. "Morgan, see if you can find two tarps to wrap the bodies in. Dave and I will start documenting the scene. Let's do it fast but efficiently."

"Amen to that," Derek muttered as he set off in search of a couple of tarps.

The remaining men donned gloves, pulled out their cell phones and set about snapping pictures of the UnSub and her final victim.

* * *

Emily's trip to the bathroom didn't go off without a hitch. Reid successfully got her there and she was able to undo her pants with one hand and without any help, letting gravity handle the rest. But when it came to bending over to retrieve them and then standing up to pull the pants on, she got dizzy and nauseous. _At least I'm in the right place for that_ , she wryly thought as she waited for the bathroom to stop its gut wrenching spinning. After the third attempt Emily threw in the towel and asked Reid for help. On the other side of the door, the young genius shouted for JJ in a cracking voice. As she sat cradling her pounding head in her good hand, Emily tried to recall the last time she had heard Reid's voice that high.

Emily was still puzzling it out when JJ knocked on the door five minutes later because she kept losing her train of thought every thirty seconds. Swallowing her pride she placed a shaky hand on the blonde's shoulder to steady herself and let JJ finish dressing her. Then Reid, his face a bright red again, helped her back to the couch. Exhausted and achy, Emily gratefully sank into the cushions.

JJ bent down into her line of sight. "Hey, Em. I know you're tired, but I need to change your bandage. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah," she agreed wearily. "Go ahead."

"Great."

While Emily was in the bathroom, JJ had gotten everything ready. She had laid out fresh gauze, ointment, a small bowl of warm, soapy water and a clean washcloth. After asking Emily to tilt her head back, she gently took off the old bandage and inspected the wound.

"It's looking good. I don't see any signs of infection."

Emily tentatively touched the butterfly strips holding the gash on her forehead closed. "How did I get this?"

JJ looked to Reid who just shrugged. She picked up the cloth, dabbed it in the sudsy water and began cleaning away the dried blood. "Martha Hanson or her partner struck you with a croquet mallet."

Emily stilled JJ's hand, instantly alert. "Martha Hanson is our Unsub and she has a partner?"

"Yes and yes."

She glanced around the room. This was Martha Hanson's house if she remembered correctly though she couldn't remember why they were still here. "Where is she?"

"She's dead," Reid said. "Hotch killed her when she tried to stab him."

"And her partner?"

"Fled the scene."

"Oh…okay," she said slowly, releasing JJ's hand so she could continue her gentle ministration. "Then why are we still here?"

"Because we're snowed in. It's a blizzard out there."

Emily's eyes drifted to the window and the snow falling outside. It had been snowing when she had arrived. "That makes sense," she said, rubbing her injured shoulder.

Reid and JJ both could not help but notice the motion indicating Emily was stressed for some reason and that she hadn't inquired about Deputy Bennett. It was obvious that something else had happened in this house that she wasn't ready to face.

JJ decided to let the wound breathe a little before applying a new bandage and turned her attention to Emily's turtleneck. The right side was caked with dried blood. She should really get her a clean shirt, but getting her current one off without hurting her was going to be tough.

"I think I should get her a clean blouse," she announced, standing up. "Reid…"

"I know. I know. Stay with Emily." He sounded resigned to the fact, but he said it with a big smile.

Since their go bags were back at the hotel, JJ was forced to go through Martha Hanson's closet, looking for anything that would work for Emily with her injured shoulder. She finally settled on a nice oxford blouse that they could slip right over the arm and button up. Grabbing it, she made her way back downstairs to the living room. At the bottom of the stairs she ran into the guys as they were returning from moving the bodies out onto the screened in back porch. She took two steps back holding her nose.

"Ugh. You guys reek."

They looked at each other and sniffed the air. "We do?" Derek asked. "I don't smell anything."

"Be glad you don't."

"That bad?" Dave asked.

"That bad," she agreed, inching back. "You better go upstairs and shower. Just give your clothes to Reid and I'll toss them in the laundry."

"You can't wash my suit," Hotch protested. "It's dry clean only."

"It's either that or talking with Sheriff Holmes tomorrow in whatever you can find to wear."

That gave Hotch some pause. "It's an old suit," he decided, prompting chuckles from the rest of the men.

The three smelly men headed upstairs to rifle through the boxes of the late Mr. Hanson's clothing and to shower while JJ made a slight detour to the kitchen. There was only one way to get the turtleneck off.

"Em, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut your turtleneck off," she said, sitting down next to her injured friend.

"But it's my favorite turtleneck," she protested, sounding a lot like Hotch did a few minutes ago.

"With your shoulder I won't be able to get it over your head without hurting you."

"Fine," she huffed, clearly put out.

JJ attempted to mollify her as she removed the elastic bandage and sling supporting the injured limb. "When we get home I'll buy you a new one."

Emily cradled her arm to her chest. "Okay, but it has to be soft. I don't like the scratchy ones.

"You got it."

When it sank in on Reid what JJ was going to do with the scissors, that he was about to see Emily half naked, he blushed and hopped to his feet. "I'll…I'll go check on the guys. Be right back," he stammered and bolted from the room.

"Is he feeling alright?" Emily asked, the concussion making her slow on the uptake. "That's the second time he's done that."

JJ chuckled. "Don't worry about him. He's just…being Reid."

* * *

By the time the three men, with a smirking Reid beside them, returned to the living room, Emily appeared to be dozing on the couch. She was wearing a clean blouse, the injured arm back in its sling and secured to her body, and had a fresh bandage on her forehead. JJ looked up from the blanket she was folding and unsuccessfully suppressed a laugh. The sound was enough to disturb Emily's nap.

She cracked her eyes open and frowned. "Are you guys going to a lumberjack convention?"

Dave, Derek and Hotch stood in the center of the room wearing flannel shirts of varying plaid patterns and jeans. Apparently Mr. Hanson was of a shorter stature so the jeans were too short on them. On Derek and Dave it wasn't so noticeable because they were wearing boots. Hotch had a nice space above his dress shoes to expose his black socks. Only Dave seemed comfortable in his new wardrobe while the others looked like two fish out of water. It was odd to see Derek not in a solid color shirt and Hotch out of a suit.

"I'll let you know babes dig this look," Derek shot back, flexing his muscles while secretly thrilled that some of Emily's snarkiness was returning.

"Babe…eww."

"Well before you pass judgment, Em," JJ chimed in, deciding to join in on the fun. "You was almost matching them if I hadn't found the shirt I did."

"Would have been okay. I have several flannel shirts in my closet."

Derek's eyebrows shot up. "You, Emily Prentiss, wear plaid?"

Emily gave him a weary smile. The bantering was fun, but so tiring. "I do and I look a hell of lot better in it than you. You look like an overgrown tablecloth."

They all laughed as he pretended to pout. The humorous exchange was what they needed after what the guys had been doing for the past hour. As they settled down Hotch's phone rang. He checked the screen and thumbed in on while JJ surreptitiously took a photo of them in their plaid flannels as proof to show Emily in case she didn't remember later. None was sure how much from the last couple of days their injured friend would retain.

"Morning, Garcia," he said. "I have you on speaker."

 _"Morning, Sir. Please tell me you're out of that house of horror and are on your way back to civilization."_

"I'm afraid not. It appears we'll be spending another night here."

" _Damn,"_ she swore. _"Everything is still shut down so I can't fly out to you guys."_

"Don't worry about that or us. We're fine. Did your searches turn up anything?"

A huge sigh come over the line. _"Nada. If Martha Hanson was advertising for help she certainly wasn't posting it anywhere people could see it. There's nothing online or in the classifieds. Since you guys are stuck in that hellhole I called all the stores in town on the off chance she might have hung a help wanted sign on their public bulletin boards."_

"And?"

 _"No go. She must have been doing it via word of mouth._ "

"It was a long shot."

" _Oh! I did get this. The coroner finally was able to identify the bodies and guess what?"_ Penelope didn't even pause to give Hotch a chance to ask. _"None of them were local."_

That got everyone's attention. "Not one?"

" _Zilch. Hampstead, New Hampshire. Rutland, Vermont. Albany, New York."_

"Interesting," Hotch said distractedly. "Thanks, Garcia."

A lull came in their conversation once she finished her update. Penelope was waiting for her own expected update from him, but it didn't seem to be coming. _"So, Bossman, are you going to keep me hanging? How's Emily? Can I talk to her? Is she okay? Say something!"  
_  
"Calm down, Garcia. Emily's doing okay."

 _"Not good enough. I need to see for myself, but since I can't, I need to at least hear her. Give her the phone, please. Now."_

Hotch passed the phone to Derek who held it in front of Emily.

"Hey, Garcia," Emily said in a tired voice.

 _"Emily!"_ she yelled. _"Oh gosh. How are you doing? Are they taking care of you? They better be taking care of you. Are you okay?"_

"Yeah, I'm okay. Guess I took a header down the stairs or so I'm told."

 _"You're told? You don't remember? That can't be good. Do I need to hijack a Med Life flight to come find you? I can do that. You just say the word."_

"Uh...no?"

 _"So you're really okay? Not just saying you're okay? I'm not liking not being there with all of you. What does Reid say? Is he worried?"_

"I'm fine, Pen. Stop worrying."

 _"I can't stop worrying. You're always getting hurt and all my little crime fighters are out in who knows where USA, trapped in a murderer's house. Asking me not to worry is like telling Pooh not to eat honey."_

"I...I don't know how to answer that," she answered, sharing a confused look with Derek. He shrugged.

 _"Oh Sug, that wasn't something that needed answering. I just want you all to leave the nest only to return to me in one piece, not body surf the stairs. Promise me you'll be okay."_

"I promise."

Derek could see the call was tiring her out. "Baby girl, you might want to wrap this up."

 _"Fine. Fine. You all better be safe out there and take care of each other. Keep toasty and rest, Em."_

"I will, Pen. Thanks."

With Emily drifting off, the rest of the team moved away, settling close by in case Emily needed them, but far enough to let her rest. They still had things to figure out and discussions to have.


	9. Chapter 9

"Well that was unexpected." Dave was the first to speak. "None of our victims are from here."

"Or from the surrounding area," Derek added. "Right, Reid?"

The young genius nodded enthusiastically. "Hampstead is at least one hundred miles to the south."

"At least? No decimal point?"

"Didn't think the point seven was pertinent."

Everyone chuckled. "So they were passing through town," JJ observed. "But Sheriff Holmes didn't mention finding any abandoned cars with out of state plates."

"They could be hidden on the property or in the surrounding woods," Hotch said. "We are out in the middle of nowhere."

Dave stroked his goatee. "They could have been hitchhikers. Our UnSubs could have offered food and shelter for a few days in return for a little work around the house. It wouldn't be a bad deal. Hot food and a place to lay your head out of the weather for a couple hours of work."

JJ shuddered. "And they signed their own death warrants by agreeing. Those poor people didn't know what they were getting into."

Everyone nodded. Derek got up and stoked the fire before tossing on a couple of more logs. "But that still doesn't explain how Martha Hanson hooked up with her partner."

"Maybe he was also a drifter."

Five set of eyes swiveled in Emily's direction. Her eyes were open and she gave them a tired smile. All had assumed she had fallen asleep and was out for the count. In actuality she had been dozing and listening to the sounds swirling around her with a half open ear.

"What was that, Prentiss?" Hotch asked.

She turned her weary gaze to her boss. "I said the partner could have been a drifter. This place looks pretty run down from the outside. He could have offered his services for room and board. She accepts because she's lonely and can't handle the place on her own."

Reid picked up her line of thought. "The partner realizes he has found the perfect secluded spot to torture his victims and a woman who lets him because she's desperate for any human attention."

"The perfect team," JJ said sarcastically. "The dominant male and the submissive female."

"We should have Garcia do a nationwide search for unsolved murders with the same MO," Dave suggested. "Odds are he's done it before."

"On it," Hotch stated, sending a text message to the technical analyst.

Derek rolled the poker thoughtfully between his hands. "The odds must be astronomical that our three victims all ended up on this particular road. We're off the beaten path so they would have to have trolled the surrounding areas for hitchhikers."

"The female victim wouldn't have gotten in the vehicle with a strange man," JJ said. "And if the partner was big and imposing, the men might have been hesitant to do so."

"Not unless Martha Hanson was the one doing the driving," Dave tossed out. "A small, older woman would be perceived as harmless."

"But Garcia said she doesn't drive," Reid protested.

"It doesn't mean that couldn't," Emily said. "She might have preferred to let her late husband do all the driving."

"Prentiss is right," Hotch agreed with a nod. "You were here before the snow really started to fall. Do you recall seeing a car when you and Deputy Bennett pulled up?"

Everyone tensed, waiting to see her reaction to the deputy's name, but Emily didn't bat an eye. Instead she briefly closed them to better able sift through her memories of the drive in.

"The only car I remember seeing was the rusted wreck in the collapsed garage."

"It could be parked out back." Derek hopped to his feet and grabbed his parka. "I'll go take a look."

"Reid, go with him and make sure he doesn't get lost out there," Hotch ordered.

"Sweet," Reid breathed. Finally he wasn't being left behind.

Derek scowled at his Unit Chief as the younger agent shrugged on his coat and wrapped his purple scarf about his neck. "I don't get lost."

"What about that time in Montana when you drove passed the same Dairy Queen five times before finally arriving at the witness' house?" Reid chimed in, tucking the ends of the scarf inside his coat before buttoning it up.

"No, I didn't. They were different."

Reid's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "So you're saying in a town of eight thousand they have five Dairy Queens?"

Derek turned his glare on the younger man who seemed oblivious to it. He was having too much fun teasing the dark agent. It was nice to be on the giving end instead of the receiving end.

"I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"You've got it wrong, kid," Derek declared, stalking out of the room.

Reid hurried after him. "You said quote 'they were different'. They imply more than one."

The thick walls of the old farmhouse muffled Derek's remark, but everyone who remained had a good idea what it was.

"Those were good suggestions, Prentiss," Hotch praised.

Emily dismissed the compliment with a weak wave of her hand. "You just caught me at the right time when I could put two coherent thoughts together and keep them. It might not happen again."

"We'll take what we can get," he said with a small smile. He then noticed she was massaging her forehead as if she was trying to stave off a headache. "Do you need some Tylenol?"

She went to shake her pounding head, but thought better of it. "No, I'm good. I just need to rest some."

Hotch watched her eyes drift closed. "Go ahead. We'll be right here if you need anything."

"Thanks, Hotch," Emily mumbled before falling into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile JJ got up and gazed worriedly out the window. "I hope Morgan doesn't smother Reid in a snowdrift. I'm really looking forward to those pastries."

* * *

The moment the two agents let themselves out onto the back porch the blizzard assaulted them. The strong winds blew snow in their faces and the cold nipped at any skin that was left exposed. They purposely ignored the tarp-shrouded bodies off to one side.

"How exactly are we going to do this?" Reid asked, hunching his shoulders and wrapping his arms around his thin body to conserve heat. "I see nothing but whiteness."

"Look for unusually large mounds of snow. The car has to be out there somewhere."

"Morgan, all I see are mounds of snow. The entire backyard is a gigantic snowdrift."

Derek ignored him as he squinted through the swirling snow. "There!" he exclaimed, pointing off to his left. "I can just barely see what appears to be an outline of an old barn. It looks like it is still standing and would be a perfect place to park the car."

Reid followed the line of his finger. "I don't see it," he said with a shake of his head. "You sure you're not imagining it?"

"Positive, kid." He latched onto Reid's arm. "Come on. Let's go check it out."

Derek hauled him through the screen door and out into the near blinding snow. Reid let the bigger agent go first to break a trail through the knee deep snow while he followed behind, carefully placing his feet in Derek's footprints. A couple of times he wished the dark agent wouldn't take so many long strides when he almost lost his balance and fell face first into the nearest snowdrift. Eventually they made it to the wooden door without slipping and landing on their asses. Of course the storm had considerately piled a waist high drift in front of it. They would have to dig it out.

"Where's a shovel when you need it?" Derek grumbled as he used his hands to scoop out the snow.

"Probably safe and warm in the barn," Reid commented, earning a grunt of agreement from the other agent.

After fifteen minutes of hand numbing hard labor, the two had cleared away enough of the snow to open the door. As Derek was reaching for the latch, Reid's hand suddenly shot out and stopped him.

"What if our other UnSub is hiding inside to wait us and the storm out?" he whispered urgently.

Derek frowned at the door. Reid was right. The UnSub could have easily fled to the barn knowing they wouldn't check it out because of the weather. He nodded that he agreed and drew his weapon. Reid did the same. Derek held up three fingers indicating that they would enter silently on three. He counted down on his fingers and then flung open the door.

The two agents dove in, separating to cover both sides. Systematically they searched the perimeter of the barn peering into every nook and cranny. They eventually met at the back in front of a bulky shape covered with a blue tarp. From beneath it a rustling sound could be heard. On high alert they cautiously approached. The scrabbling noise grew louder. There was definitely someone or something hiding under there.

Derek jerked up the tarp while shouting, "FBI!"

"Meeeeoooww!"

"Shit!" he cursed, falling back on the hard packed, cold ground. Behind him Reid chuckled. "What the hell was that?"

"I believe it was a Felis Catus," Reid said matter of factly, a grin tugging at his lips.

Derek glared up at him. "A what?"

His grin grew wider. "Domestic cat."

"No way," he declared with a shake of his head, climbing to his feet as he dusted off his jeans. "That thing was huge. It had to be a raccoon or something."

"Raccoons don't meow."

"Whatever," Derek growled. He yanked the tarp off to reveal an old Buick. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he peered in through the driver's side window.

Reid couldn't let it go. He was enjoying being on the other side of the teasing coin. "What is it about you and cats? Every time you go over to Emily's, Sergio pounces on you. He never does that with me."

"That's because that damn cat hates me."

"Actually I think it's the other way around. You don't like cats. Sergio senses that so he goes out of his way to annoy you."

"I rest my case." Derek moved to the back of the car pulling out his cell phone. "Hey, Sweetness. I need a little ole' favor."

" _Depends on what it is. I don't come cheap you know,"_ Penelope teased.

"I'll get you something pretty when we get back. Does that work for you?" he teased back.

"It does. Name your poison before the price goes up."

Derek grinned while Reid shook his head in amusement. "I need you to run a plate for me," he said and rattled off the license number.

" _Consider it run,"_ Penelope said, typing the data into her computer. _"And the winner is…Lon Hanson. The late hubby."_

"That's what we thought. Did Hotch contact you about seeing if Martha Hanson had a driver's license?"

"Indeedy he did. I was just about to call him."

"And?" Derek prompted.

" _She was legal,"_ Penelope revealed.

"Emily was right. She knew how to drive," Reid observed.

"Thanks, Baby Girl. I'll pass it on," he said and hung up. He looked back at the car. "We better not touch anything before the crime scene techs have a chance to go over it with a fine tooth comb. Maybe they will get lucky and find the partner's prints all over it."

"Agreed," Reid said with a nod and then he shivered, tugging his coat tighter around his body. "I'm freezing. Let's go back inside before I catch a cold."

"You need more meat on your scrawny bones, Pretty Boy, to keep warm," Derek joked.

"That's what layering is for," Reid retorted as they headed back to the house and the roaring fire within it.

* * *

After shaking the snow off their coats and knocking it from their shoes, Reid and Derek rejoined the team in the living room where Emily was stirring from her nap. Reid made a beeline for the fireplace, holding out his hand toward the flames and let the heat warm his chilled fingers. Derek remained standing where he was with his hand shoved in the pockets of his coat.

"The Arctic explorers have returned," Dave quipped.

"Yup," the young genius agreed. "We didn't get swallowed up by the snow."

"Find the car?" Hotch asked.

"We did," Derek said with a nod. "It's parked in the barn out back. I had Garcia run the plates and it belongs to the Hanson's as we figured it would. The Kid and I left it alone so that we wouldn't destroy any evidence like fingerprints. Hopefully the partner left them all over the car."

"That would make it easier catching him," JJ replied.

"Definitely." Derek glanced at Emily who was watching the interaction through half-masted eyes. She still looked tired after the nap. "Prentiss was right about Martha Hanson."

Her eyebrows shot up making her wince slightly when the motion tugged at the butterfly bandages. "I was? About what?"

Everyone looked at her in concern, seeing the genuine confusion on her face. Clearly Emily had no memory of their previous conversation. The concussion was still messing with her thought processes.

"You suggested that Martha Hanson had a driver's license and she did. Apparently she just didn't like to drive."

"I did? Brilliant suggestion on my part, I guess."

Everyone chuckled. It was good to see her wry sense of humor returning.

"Find anything else?" Hotch asked.

"Well Morgan did manage to flush out a cat," Reid said with a smirk. "It scared the crap out of him, causing him to fall on his ass."

Derek glared at the young man. "It came out of nowhere and it was huge," he replied testily. "All I saw was teeth. Lots of pointy, sharp teeth."

Laughter filled the room from his teammates except for Emily. She sat staring at the snow falling outside the window with a pensive look.

"Where is it?" she asked after the laughter had died down.

"Where's what?" Derek asked in confusion.

"The cat."

He shrugged. "Still hiding somewhere in the barn I suppose."

Her look turned to one of worry. "It has to be freezing outside. The poor thing is probably cold and hungry."

"I guess. What do you want me to do? Go and get it?" he said in jest, not expecting anyone to take him up on his silly offer.

"Please, Derek," Emily implored.

Derek gaped at his friend. "Seriously?" he asked incredulously. "I was joking."

"I am." Emily remembered that someone had said Martha Hanson was dead. "With its owner dead it will starve to death if we don't do something."

"We can put some food out for it," he countered. "It tried to maul me." Derek didn't want to go back outside for some damn cat that was probably quite comfortable in the barn.

Emily's eyes drilled into his, but he could be as stubborn as she was. The cat wasn't worth venturing back out into the teeth of the storm. What Derek didn't see, but everyone else did, was the determined set of her jaw. They all knew Emily would try to do it herself if Derek continued to refuse. Her hand was already tugging at the blanket covering her.

Hotch sighed. "Morgan. Get the cat."

* * *

"Here kitty kitty."

Derek shook his head in disbelief as he tiptoed through the barn with a blanket in hand. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact he was freezing his butt off looking for a cat that didn't want to be found and that he had actually said here kitty kitty. Oh the things he would do for his best friend and partner. Besides Penelope, Emily was the only one he couldn't say no to. He may hem and haw for a bit, but he always gave in at the end.

"Where the hell are you, damn cat," he grumbled in frustration. "Why don't you make it easy on yourself and come out."

The only answer he got was the wind whistling through the cracks between the boards. As he cautiously peeked beneath the car, Derek wished it were a dog he was looking for. They came running with tail a wagging when you called for them. Cats didn't give you the time of day.

As he straightened, Derek's cell phone went off. Distractedly he snatched it off his belt. "Hey."

" _Hey, Sugar,"_ Penelope replied. _"What are you doing?"_

"I'm looking for the damn cat."

That gave Penelope some pause. _"A…a cat? Why on earth are you looking for a cat? Is it your latest baddie?"_

Derek sighed. "Because Prentiss wants it."

Panic over her friend's condition kicked in. _"Is her head worse than you're telling me? Because so help me Cyber gods, if you're not telling me the truth and she's going all coco for cocoa puffs out there making your search for an imaginary cat."_

"Hang on, Mama. It's not an imaginary cat," Derek told her and then filled her in on how he and Reid had found the feline in the barn.

" _Awww, my Der Bear was afraid of a wittle puddy tat,"_ she teased.

"I wasn't afraid. The thing was huge and had six inch claws."

" _Sure,"_ she said with a chuckle while Derek glowered his displeasure at the cell phone. _"And I don't really know your social security number. But we're off the topic. Does this mean Emily is really okay?"_

"We're keeping an eye on her. She has her moments, but it looks like she's doing all right. And the cat is definitely not fictional and an absolute pain in my ass."

" _Good."_ She took a deep breath _. "I was afraid you guys might be fudging the truth about Emily so I wouldn't worry myself to death."_

"You know I would never lie to you. Prentiss' concussion is worrisome and it's affecting her short term memory, but she doing better than yesterday."

" _Scout's honor?"_

Derek held up his hand. "Scout's honor."

Penelope breathed a sigh of relief. _"Thank you. I feel better, but it's not going to stop me from worrying. I always start worrying the second my little chicks step onto the elevator."_

"We wouldn't want it any other way, Baby Girl."

"Well, I better let you get back to the great kitty cat hunt. Have fun and try not to get scratched. Garcia out."

"Yeah, right," he grumbled, pocketing the phone as he glanced around the semi-dark space. "Where the hell are you, you little bugger?"

A glint of green in the corner caught Derek's attention and he grinned in anticipation. "There you are. You are so mine."


	10. Chapter 10

Many futile attempts at capture later, Derek returned to the living room with a squirming blanket in his arms. He set it on the floor and unwound the shroud to reveal…a rather small calico cat, not the monster he had kept describing. Once free, the cat fluffed its fur and bolted for safety under the couch with a pissed off meow.

Everyone's eyes went from the empty blanket to Derek. "That's your beast?" JJ asked in disbelief. "It's smaller than Sergio."

"It looks a hell of a lot larger when it's coming at your face," Derek countered in his defense.

"Right…" she drawled, not believing him for an instant. Derek Morgan wasn't going to admit that a cat that wasn't bigger than a large boot had spooked him.

"I think we should name it," Emily suggested, a twinkle of humor lighting up her eyes that had looked so tired seconds before, "since it's going to be hanging out with us for awhile."

"Good idea. What were you thinking of?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Emily's mouth. "Monster."

JJ chuckled while Derek scowled. "I love it. I'll go see if there is any food I can give our new roomie."

When JJ was gone, Emily called out, "Hey, Derek?" She waited for him to turn to her. "Thank you."

Derek's annoyance at being the butt of the joke melted away and he smiled. "You're welcome, Partner. I have to admit I sort of enjoyed the challenge."

"I know what you mean. When a cat doesn't want to be caught they become masters of escape."

"Agreed," he said and regaled everyone with his tale of the great cat hunt.

* * *

With their forward progress on the case stalled by the lack of new leads, the team had to find a way to entertain themselves until tomorrow or when Penelope called back with the results of her latest search. Dave suggested poker and Derek, JJ and Hotch took him up on his offer. Emily's concussion was affecting her concentration so the game wouldn't be very fun for her. It also would probably tire her out rather quickly. Reid, not wanting her to be by herself while she was awake, opted to hang out with her instead, much to the delight of the rest of the team.

While they played cards, Reid decided he would read to Emily. She was fine with that because it would give her something else to focus on besides her never-ending headache and aching shoulder. She could have taken another nap, but she was tired of sleeping even though she knew she needed it to heal. Right now she was enjoying the company of her friends. The reading aloud started off fine, but Reid started to pause after each chapter to quiz her on its content. He was only testing her short-term memory, but it was quickly becoming annoying. At one point Emily testily asked if he was going to insist on a 5,000 word book report when it was done. Reid took it as a legitimate question, gave it a considerable amount of thought and came to the conclusion that it was an excellent idea. It would show how much of the story she had retained. If Emily had the strength, she would have hit him.

The newly dubbed Monster eventually emerged from under the couch to join in on the fun. She daintily munched on the food JJ had set out and then she attached herself to the one person she knew for certain didn't like her. Monster spent her time rubbing up against Derek's legs while meowing softly or jumping up in his lap and disrupting his hand. Every time he would huff in annoyance and dump her on the floor. She, in turn, would wait for a minute or two and then start it all over again.

When JJ lost the last of her pretzels to Dave, she threw in the towel and exited the game. She wandered over to one of the bookcases and scanned the titles for a good book to read. Her blue eyes fell on an extra long book. Curious, JJ pulled it down and found herself holding a photo album. She sat in the first available chair and began to slowly flip through the pages, studying the old photos.

"JJ, what are you looking at?" Reid asked in curiosity.

JJ jumped at the sound of his voice. She had been so engrossed in the photographs that she hadn't heard him approaching. "Geez, Spence, what did I say about sneaking up on people?"

"Uh…I'm sorry?" he said, scrunching up his face in confusion.

She calmed her rapidly beating heart. "I thought you were still reading to Emily."

"She said she was tired and wanted to take a nap. She also said I sucked at doing voices."

"Do you?" she asked with a chuckle.

"I don't think so. What were you looking at," he repeated.

JJ held up the book. "The Hanson's family photo album. I love looking at old photographs even if I don't know the people in them."

"Cool. They are windows to the past."

"They are."

With Reid leaning on the back of the chair looking over her shoulder, JJ slowly turned the pages. Every now and then they would comment on the clothing or the silly poses. Then one particular photo caught her attention. Sucking in her breath, JJ sat up straighter and pointed to it.

"Reid, look at this," she said excitedly.

He leaned in to get a closer look. "It's a couple and their baby who appears to be around three months old," he observed with a shrug.

"No. Take a closer look at the couple. That's Martha Hanson, he husband and their—"

"Their child," he said as the realization and implications set in. "Garcia said they were childless."

"Obviously not. And it's definitely their child because of the way they are looking at it. Their eyes are full of wonder and joy."

Reid snatched the photo album out of her hands and hurried over to where the guys were still playing poker. He dropped in on top of the pot sending pretzel pieces and crumbs flying everywhere.

"JJ found something," he announced, eagerly pointing at the photo. "That's the Hanson's and…their child."

"Their child?" Hotch frowned as he peered closer.

"But they didn't according to the records," Derek protested.

"But if they did, that changes our profile. The partner wasn't a drifter, but their son," Dave reasoned.

Hotch snatched up his phone. "Garcia," he said as soon as she came on the line. "I thought you said the Hanson's were childless."

 _"You thought correctly, Bossman,"_ she said with some confusion. _"I found no evidence of any birth certificates. Do you have something that says differently?"_

"We're looking at a photograph of them with a baby."

 _"Curiouser and curiouser,"_ she echoed in surprise. _"You sure it's not a niece or nephew or something?"_

"Positive."

 _"Huh. I will have to dig deeper into this. I will call you the second I get to the bottom of this little mystery."_

"Dave's right," Hotch said once Penelope hung up. "This changes the entire profile." Everyone nodded in agreement.

"The son was a budding psychopath enjoying the killing of the farm animals. The parents probably didn't notice at first because that is the way of life on a farm."

Dave continued the narrative. "Then he moved up to something more personal like the family dog or cat." Monster meowed in protest. "That got his parents attention. They kept a closer eye on him and afraid of what he might do in public they kept him at home."

"And that kind of isolation on a child," Derek added, "makes his behavior worse. Eventually he moved on to human prey."

"But prior to this there hasn't been any signs of any unsolved murders," JJ pointed out. "What changed?"

"His father died," Reid said decisively. "He was able somehow to keep his son's urges in check. Martha Hanson didn't have the same level of power over him. In desperation she brought anonymous victims to him so that he wouldn't go hunting amongst the townspeople."

"How nice of her," JJ said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "Why didn't they just get him some help? It might have prevented this from ever happening."

Dave dusted the pretzel crumbs from the front of his shirt. "Unfortunately people prefer not to air their dirty laundry in public."

"This is one messed up family."

"You'll get no argument from me."

Why they waited for Penelope's call, the team, minus JJ who stayed with the slumbering Emily, spent the time looking for any signs in the house that there was a son. They were puzzled when none was found. There were no toys or clothes in the attic, no collection of childhood drawings and the photo album abruptly stopped like they had lost interest in maintaining it. It made them wonder exactly where he was living if he wasn't sleeping in the house. Then Penelope called and gave them the answer to all their questions.

 _"It took awhile to figure out how I could possibly miss something as glaring as a birth certificate and this is the reason why. Back in the early nineties the courthouse had a nasty fire and it destroyed all sorts of records. So I went spelunking where I'm not supposed to go."_

"Hospital medical records?" Derek hazarded a guess.

 _"You said it, not me. Anyhoo I did find a birth certificate for Andrew John Hanson born July 16, 1970…and a death certificate,"_ she finished sadly.

"Death certificate?" Hotch echoed.

 _"Little Andrew died at the wee age of ten months from SIDS."_

A stunned silence descended upon the group. That wasn't what they had expected or wanted. They used the quietness to mull it over. Not only was their newest suspect dead long before any of the crimes were committed, but it meant there was more to Martha Hanson than they had initially realized. It made them wonder if the son's premature death had been her trigger and if they dug deeper they would find other crimes they could connect to her after his demise. It also got them thinking about who else could have been affected by his death. Maybe the partner was connected to her through that experience and their relationship only evolved to the murderous duo they were now.

JJ actually felt a momentary sympathy for Martha Hanson. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it felt like to lose a child at such a tender age or at any age for that matter. But as a person who had watched her mother grieve for her child, she knew what such a horrible loss could do to someone. In a way it would help them get into her mind a little better.

 _"Uh…guys? You still there because all I'm hearing is nothing but dead air and it's making me nervous,"_ Penelope asked anxiously.

"Yeah, Baby Girl, we're still here," Derek reassured her. "We're just a little stunned by your bombshell. We weren't expecting that."

 _"Did I just blow your profile into a gazillion little pieces?"_

"Unfortunately you did." Derek ran his hand over his head with a sigh.

 _"Sorry but I have to call them the way I see them."_

"Not your fault."

"Garcia, how are your other searches going?" Hotch asked.

She shook her head. _"Slowly, Sir. So far my precious babies haven't found anything hinky in Martha Hanson's past nor have they caught whiff of any similar unsolved murders."_

"Expand that search back to the year the son died and keep digging into her history."

 _"I will until I hit China. Over and out."_

Silence filled the room a second time as they stared at each other. They were all telepathically asking the same thing. Who was this mysterious partner? How did the late husband fit into it? It wasn't the child, and with what they knew now, the original preliminary profile could be out too. Every clue they got seemed to lead to another dead end.

Shaking it off, they just needed something to do. It didn't seem like they were making any headway on the case and wouldn't until and unless Penelope's searches came up with something. So what could they do in the meantime? Since the day was winding down, and they were all ready to just settle in and hope the hours passed quickly and the snow to clear, so they all gathered around and flicked on the ancient TV.

Not too long after, Dave looked over to Emily. She was sound asleep on the makeshift bed by the fire. Halfway through the really bad movie they had found on one of the five channels the television got, she had nodded off. She was such a trooper. Though she still had a bad headache and an aching shoulder, she had still wanted to be with them so she gamely sat on the couch and tried not to sleep. Of course her body decided she needed a deeper, longer and more restorative sleep. After a quick discussion, JJ and Derek decided Emily would probably be more comfortable on the bed and with a minimum of fuss they got her settled for the night.

With Emily situated, the rest turned their attention back to the mystery on hand. They needed to immerse themselves in something. Being snowbound at a stranger's home was bad enough, but they were trapped in a murder house. It didn't matter if they dealt with death on a daily basis; it was still weird. And they needed something to make them forget the creeps the house gave them.

For Dave, that meant being nosey. After batting around possible theories for several hours, the rest decided it was time for bed. He, however, wasn't tired and wanted to wander about the house a bit more and see what other mysteries were in store for him. Since Emily's concussion no longer required constant observation like last night, he was able to slip quietly from the room.

It was an older house he noted as he puttered through the rooms, comparing the contents in it to his own tastes. Obviously everything in his house was better and he wished he had his liquor cabinet there to warm him through the snowy and cold night. A nice bourbon sounded good to him.

He was making his own fun by exploring the place, identifying anything that could be useful to their profile on the partner. His steps faltered when his ears picked up a thumping sound. Instantly on alert, Dave rested his hand on the butt of his weapon and cautiously entered the hallway.

He blinked in surprise to see Emily standing unsteadily by the base of the stairs. How the hell did she get here by herself, he wondered in amazement because every time she had tried to stand she got dizzy and nauseous. But it quickly turned to dismay when he realized what she was doing. She had her good hand over an ear and was banging her injured shoulder into the newel post at the bottom of the staircase.

"Prentiss, what are you doing?" he cried, rushing to her side and stopping her in mid swing. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "You're going to hurt yourself."

She struggled in his hold. "Make it stop," she mumbled.

"What?"

Emily turned pain filled and pleading eyes to him. "Make it stop," she begged, pressing harder on her ear.

"Make what stop?" Dave asked in confusion. She wasn't making any sense.

"The screaming," she moaned.

It didn't take Dave long to figure out that Emily wasn't living in the moment, nor was she suddenly experiencing hallucinations. He knew what was happening. She was relieving Deputy Bennett's death, that, until then she had blocked out.

"Okay, Pren…Emily, I'll try," he said with a reassuring smile though he had no idea how he was exactly going to do that. Then a thought occurred to him.

Dave pulled Emily into an awkward embrace. He was still relatively new to the team and didn't know her too well yet. She tended to hold things close to the vest with people she didn't yet fully trust and that made it harder to get to know her. For example, Dave had no clue if she was a touchy feely type of person, he certainly wasn't, but the situation called for it. Emily resisted of course, but Dave didn't let go. Mindful of her injured shoulder, he rubbed clumsy circles on her back and used his other hand to cradle her head against his chest.

"Won't stop," she mumbled into his chest.

"It will," he said softly. "Just listen to the beating of my heart and the sound of my voice instead."

Emily squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. "Too loud."

"I know," Dave agreed and started talking about whatever popped into his head in a low, calm voice.

Eventually he began to feel her relaxing in his arms. Emily's mumbling stopped as she leaned heavily into him, her hand slipping from her ear. Exhaustion was taking over and Dave knew she wouldn't be able to stay on her feet much longer. He adjusted his grip on her and guided her back to the living room.

Hotch met them just inside the doorway. He had awakened to discover the two of them gone and had begun to worry. "What happened?" he whispered, seeing the way Emily was slumped in Dave's arms. He took his place at her side.

"I found her in the hallway pounding her injured shoulder into the newel post," Dave explained as they maneuvered Emily back to the makeshift bed.

Hotch frowned in confusion. "Why on earth would she being do that?"

"Remember back in the basement when I wondered if Prentiss had heard the deputy's dying screams?" The Unit Chief nodded. "She did. I believe she was attempting to use the pain to drown it out."

"Good thing you came across her when you did." Between the two of them they got her back in bed and covered up.

"Hopefully before she caused more damage to her already injured shoulder."

Hotch carefully ran his hand over her shoulder. "I don't feel the joint is out of place so I think you stopped her in time. The bruising and general aching will probably be worse by morning, but we can take the edge off with some more Tylenol."

"What a relief," Dave said with sigh as he sat back on his heels.

"It is," Hotch agreed and clapped the older agent on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, Dave. I've got a feeling we're going to be doing a lot of shoveling tomorrow to get the SUV's free of snow."

"I will. Night, Aaron."

Dave waited for Hotch to settle down before he pulled a chair up close to Emily's makeshift bed and covered up with a blanket. Even with her safe and sound in bed, he wasn't ready to take his eyes off her. They were all going to need to keep a close watch. Not only was she physically wounded, but now the mental injuries were starting to surface. Dave had the feeling that tonight's glimpse was only just the beginning for Emily.


	11. Chapter 11

Like the prior morning, JJ was the first to wake. Her sleep crusted eyes drifted over the living room to see if anyone else was up. None were, but she stopped once she got to Dave. He was snoring softly in a chair drawn, almost protectively, near Emily. It wasn't unusual for someone to by Emily's side, but Dave had been off wandering about while Hotch and Reid were in their places the night before. Well, she wasn't going to dwell on it too much, instead she cast her gaze about once more eventually landing on Derek. A smile graced her face when she saw Monster draped over Derek's chest, rising up and down with his breathing. They looked so cute together so she snapped a picture of them for prosperity.

Getting up, she peeked out the window. The skies were still overcast, but the snow had stopped falling. "Hey, guys," she called out. "The snow has stopped."

JJ's excited announcement roused the rest of the team. Dave awoke with a snort while Hotch sat up and stretched. Reid, with his youthful enthusiasm, bounded up and joined her at the window. The blonde's cheerful voice penetrated the fog muddling up Emily mind and she managed to sit up on her own though her stomach churned as the room spun uncontrollably. But Derek's reaction was the best of all.

Still half asleep, Derek mistook the warm fur ball on his chest as a cuddle buddy and went to wrap his arms around it. When Monster meowed in greeting, his eyes popped open and he nearly jumped out of his skin, shoving the cat off his chest.

Everyone chuckled as he hopped to his feet, brushing the cat hair from his shirtfront. "Damn cat!" he hissed in annoyance.

"Morgan's got a girlfriend," Reid teased in a singsong voice.

"Shut up, kid."

As Monster rubbed up against Derek's legs, Emily gave him a sly look. "Well Morgan does have a way with the opposite sex…of any species."

A retort was on the end of his tongue and he chose not to fling it at her. Derek loved trading barbs with Emily, but he couldn't now in good conscious because the last couple of days weren't being kind to her. She looked like death warmed over with her arm in a makeshift sling, the large bandage on her forehead and her tired eyes. He would pay her back tenfold when she was back to her old self.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said with a dismissive wave. "Joke all you want." He nudged the cat away with his foot.

Hotch looked at his team. He was pretty sure they were all ready to get the hell out of here. He knew he was. There was definitely something about this place he found unsettling. It was a feeling he wouldn't be able to shake until they were far, far away.

"Since it appears the snow has stopped, help should soon be on its way. Let's get ready for it. JJ, do you mind making breakfast again?" he asked politely.

"Not at all," she replied. "It gives me something to do. Em, you feeling up to some scrambled eggs?" She remembered seeing a dozen eggs in the fridge.

"I think so. And a big cup of coffee."

"No way. It's orange juice for you. I'm pretty sure you shouldn't have caffeine when you have a concussion."

Emily started to protest, but she saw the look on the blonde's face. JJ wasn't going to give in so she decided to pout instead. "Whatever."

Hotch smiled, doubting the coffee would mix well with the nausea that hit her every time she moved. "Morgan, Reid. See if you can find the snow shovels. We're going to have to dig out the cars." The two agents nodded.

He turned to Dave. "Why don't you stay with Prentiss and help her with whatever she might need. She might need to use the bathroom."

"No problem," Dave agreed, glancing at Emily.

Emily shifted uncomfortably and looked away, blushing slightly. It wasn't because she was embarrassed that she had to be helped to the bathroom. That ship had sailed when JJ had to help her do up her pants. It was something else entirely and it somehow involved Dave. She had a dream last night that she wasn't sure was actually a dream. Something had happened, she just wasn't positive on what.

"Meanwhile I'll contact Sheriff Holmes and get an ETA on the snowplow and reinforcements," Hotch continued.

It would also give him time to get back into his suit. There was no way in hell he was going to greet the sheriff dressed like Jethro from the Beverly Hillbillies.

* * *

JJ stepped into the kitchen and stared about her in disbelief. It looked like a tornado had struck the place. Drawers and cabinets were left open, spilled food and drink was spread over the counters and the dirty dishes weren't left in the sink, but left on the kitchen table to congeal over night.

"I don't fucking believe this," she groused, gazing at the mess. Men were pigs in more than one way and there was no way in hell she was cleaning it up this time.

Angrily she spun on her heels, slammed through the kitchen door and stomped off to the living room. When she burst in, Hotch was hanging up on his cell phone and Dave was making Emily comfortable on the couch.

"Whoever made the mess better get their ass back in there and clean up. I'm sure as hell not doing it."

The three of them stared at her in confusion. "JJ, what are you talking about?" Hotch asked with a frown.

She gestured in the general direction of the kitchen. "I'm talking about the mess in the kitchen. One of you guys decided to make a midnight snack and then didn't bother to clean up after yourself. You left if for me to do it."

Dave held up his hands. "It wasn't me. I'm an Italian son of an Italian mother. We clean up. It's in our blood."

Her eyes swung accusingly to Hotch who quickly denied he was the culprit. "Then it must be Derek or Reid both times," she decided.

Hotch stiffened. "Both times?" he demanded.

"Uh…yes," JJ responded, a little off balance from his tone of voice. "Yesterday morning the kitchen was a mess. I didn't say anything because I was hoping it was a one time thing."

Not saying another word, Hotch pushed by her and headed for the kitchen. JJ exchanged a puzzled look with Dave and then hurried after the Unit Chief. Dave went to follow, but was delayed when Emily asked to go along. He put her arm around his neck, eased her to her feet, waited for the dizziness and nausea to pass and then guided her to the kitchen.

When they finally caught up, Hotch and JJ were just inside the doorway gazing at the mess.

"Did you touch anything?" he was asking her.

Before she had a chance to answer, the door leading to the back porch burst open admitting a worried Derek and Reid. "Hotch, we got a problem. The body is gone," Derek said.

The four blinked in surprise, Emily more so than the rest since she had no clue what was going on. Seeing her confusion Dave told her that they had moved Martha Hanson's body outside to preserve it. He didn't mention that Deputy Bennett's body was also out there or maybe it was the one that was missing.

"Hanson's?" Hotch inquired.

"Yes."

"Could an animal have dragged it off?" JJ asked even though she already knew the answer. The only animal around here large enough to drag off a body was a human one.

Reid shook his head. "No. The screen door was latched from the inside." Then he noticed the state of the kitchen. When they had passed through the room earlier they hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. "What happened in here?"

"Neither of you did this?" She asked, hoping one would say yes.

Both shook their heads. "No way," Derek said. "Momma would have killed me if I left a mess like this."

JJ looked from one man to the next. "So if none of you guys were responsible and we know Emily didn't do it that would mean…" she intentionally trailed off not liking the answer.

"We're not alone," Hotch said flatly.

Everyone glanced about the room like they were expecting the partner to pop out of the woodwork saying 'here I am'. Dave felt Emily leaning heavily on him, as her legs grew weaker. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs for her and she gratefully sank down onto it. She hated appearing weak in front of her teammates, but this was better than falling flat on her face. Dave kept a protective hand resting lightly on her good shoulder in case she suddenly keeled over.

"But how?" Reid asked with a puzzled frown. "We've searched this place from top to bottom multiple times and found nothing."

"Maybe he's hiding in another outbuilding and sneaking back in at night to eat," Derek suggested.

Dave shook his head. "Remember that we locked and barricaded both doors because of Prentiss."

Emily glanced up at him in confusion. "Barricaded the doors because of me? Why would you do that?"

He smiled softly. "We were worried that in your confusion you might wander out into the snowstorm." He didn't bring up her wandering last night.

"Oh," she said. Was she that bad the other day? She could only guess since she was having trouble remembering things. If she was, Emily prayed she hadn't made a fool of herself.

"It's obvious that we've missed something," Hotch said.

"No kidding," Dave said drolly.

"We need to go over this place with a fine tooth comb," he decided. "We need to find where he is hiding or how he is getting in. JJ, why don't you help Prentiss back to the living room while we look around."

The blonde nodded and helped Emily to her feet. With her arm securely wrapped around the brunette's waist, she guided her injured friend back to the living room.

Hotch waited until they were gone before drawing his weapon. "Let's find this UnSub and put an end to this once and for all."

* * *

"JJ, you don't have to stay with me," Emily protested as JJ made her comfortable on the couch. "Go join the guys. I don't need a babysitter."

JJ draped the blanket over Emily's legs and tucked it in. "Can you stand without getting dizzy and sick to your stomach?" she countered.

 _Damn_ , Emily swore. _She's got me there_. "Uh…maybe."

"Right. So it looks like you're stuck with me until they get back." She straightened and rested her hand on the butt of her gun. She had been right that the house was haunted, but their ghost was mortal.

Emily sighed and turned to gaze out the window. She was a woman of action and didn't like being kept on the sidelines, but JJ was right. She wouldn't be of any use to the team if she couldn't stand on her own and, if she was perfectly honest with herself, her vision was still a bit blurry. It would be best this time to stay out of the way.

Suddenly the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up in full alert. Stiffening, Emily glanced warily around the room. It was the same feeling she had when she had first stepped into this room what seemed like years ago.

"We're being watched," she hissed.

"What was that, Em?" JJ asked, spinning around to find Emily sitting on the edge of the couch, body taut with tension. Her dark brown eyes were darting everywhere.

"We're being watched." Emily's hand crept to her hip to find her holster empty. "JJ, where's my gun? I need it."

JJ questioned what to do with the request. Emily was a capable agent, more so on her best days. But she was from her best day. With the concussion, she just wasn't sure it was a good idea to give her a gun. Emily's mental state had been good. She was doing better, not so out of it and with no signs of paranoia. But there were definitely some now. It was justified especially after what they just discussed, but now the paranoia was in her voice and in her eyes. If there was one thing JJ knew, it was that you just didn't give a paranoid person a gun. But this was Emily, not an UnSub.

She made her decision. "Promise me you won't accidentally shoot me or yourself in the foot?"

"I promise." Emily held up her hand. "See? No shaking."

JJ didn't see a single tremor in the hand even when she had Emily rotate it and that reassured her. She went to where Reid's satchel was hanging. She withdrew Emily's Glock from its cavernous depths and turned around. There was a flash of pain and everything went dark.

* * *

The men decided to start their search with the top two floors since there were more places to hide and that they had rarely ventured upstairs. If they found nothing they would turn their focus to the first floor and the basement. They were going to find the UnSub even if they had to tear the place apart brick by brick.

They split up with Hotch and Derek continuing up to the attic while Reid and Dave stayed on the second. Within seconds the sound of things being moved about came through to them through the ceiling. The first room Reid wanted to check out was Martha Hanson's bedroom. That was the room he had first heard the thumping emanating from and there was something that was still bothering him about it. Better to get it out of the way early.

With their weapons drawn, Reid pushed the door open. At first glance the room appeared to be the same as he had last seen it, but there was one glaring difference.

The two exchanged looks. "Let's see who is sleeping in Mama Bear's bed," Dave whispered.

With a nod they split up, each taking one side of the bed. Whoever was sleeping had the covers over their head, muffling the sound of their approach. Reid carefully took up a handful of the material, let out a slow breath and flung back the covers.

At the same Dave said, "Nap time is over, Goldilocks."

They froze and slowly lowered their guns in surprise. "Well, this is unexpected," the older agent marveled.

The person lying in the bed wasn't their UnSub, but Martha Hanson.

"How did she end up here?" Reid asked with a puzzled frown.

"I have no clue."

The young genius hurried out to the stairs leading to the attic to summon Derek and Hotch. A few minutes later they entered the bedroom and skidded to a halt at the unusual sight.

"What the hell?" Derek exclaimed while Hotch crossed his arms and stared thoughtfully at the corpse.

"This is interesting," he finally said.

"How so?"

"I thought the partner had taken the body to experiment on since that is what he likes to do. He wants to see how the body works, but this…" he trailed off.

"It's personal," Derek continued. "This shows Martha was important to him." He gestured at the body. "Look at how she is laid out. Her hands are folded neatly on her chest and he tucked the blankets tenderly around her."

"He wanted her to be warm so he brought her in from the cold," Dave said.

"But how did he get her body up here?" Reid asked, going back to his original question. "He would have had to sneak her through the kitchen and pass us to reach the stairs. You all have heard how those stairs squeak. There's no way he could have made it up them silently."

No one had an immediate answer to his question.

"Uh…if he lived here long enough he would have known how to avoid the squeaky treads," Derek guessed.

"While balancing a dead body?" Reid countered.

Derek huffed. "It would be hard to do."

The men fell silent as they tried to think of ways the UnSub could have gotten the body upstairs undetected. Physically he had to be big and strong. Even though Martha Hanson was petite, she weighed more dead than alive. Toting a dead body around was no easy thing. They should know. It took two of them to move the bodies outside.

A loud crash from below startled them out of their individual musing and they looked at each other in alarm.

"The girls!" Derek shouted and took off, the others quickly following.

The men burst into the living room, guns leading the way, to find JJ staggering to her feet. An overturned table and broken lamp lay nearby.

Reid rushed to her side, reaching out to steady her. "JJ, what happened?"

JJ latched on to his arm, worried blue eyes wildly scanning the room. "Where's Emily?"


	12. Chapter 12

"Where's Emily?" JJ exclaimed as she latched on to Reid's arm, her blue eyes wildly scanning the room.

At her frantic words the men all looked around. There was no sign of the brunette agent.

"Wasn't she with you?" Reid asked.

"She was. She was sitting right there." JJ gestured the couch and the blanket that lay abandoned on the floor. Emily said we were being watched and asked for her gun."

"Did you?" Hotch asked, unsure if it was a good idea to arm a concussed person even if it was Emily.

"I was going to because I trust Emily's instinct. If she said we were being watched, we were being watched. I got her Glock out of Reid's satchel, turned around and was blindsided by someone or something. When I came around she was gone."

They all knew Emily would never attack her friend so it had to be their UnSub.

Derek scanned the floor for the gun, figuring she dropped it when she was hit. "The gun is missing too."

They exchanged worried looks. "Maybe Prentiss grabbed her gun and took off after the UnSub after he had attacked JJ," Dave ventured.

Reid abruptly dashed out of the room. They could hear his footfalls as he ran from one end of the house to the other. He returned a minute later slightly out of breath. "The front and back doors are still locked and they're not the type that automatically lock behind you."

Hotch frowned. "That means they're here and the UnSub has her. He probably incapacitated her in some way to prevent her from calling out to us."

Derek sucked in a deep breath and opened his mouth to shout out her name, but Dave held up a hand to stop him. "We don't want to alert the UnSub that we know he has Prentiss. The element of surprise is on our side." He nodded and exhaled.

"Dave is right," Hotch agreed. "If they didn't go outside, they're still in the house somewhere."

"They didn't come upstairs because we would have heard them," Derek added. "We had a clear line of sight of the landing from the bedroom. That leaves—"

"The basement!" JJ and Reid exclaimed at the same time.

Hotch made everyone don their Kevlar vest since the UnSub was probably armed with Emily's gun. Silently they descended on the basement and split into two groups to better cover the space. Hotch and Dave went one way and the rest went the other. Eventually they met back at the stairs with frustrated looks on their faces.

"Nothing," Derek growled, jamming his gun into its holster. "Where the hell are they?"

"Could there be another entrance we don't know about?" JJ suggested.

Dave shook his head. "I don't think so. If there was one, it would be down here and all I've seen are solid cinderblock walls.

"They couldn't have vanished into thin air," Reid observed in puzzlement.

"Right." Hotch nodded and crossed his arms.

Meanwhile Derek had been staring at the far wall, a thoughtful look on his face. "It's a hidden room."

Hotch spun around. "What?"

The dark agent walked over to the wall and rested a hand on its rough surface. "There was something bothering me the first time I was down here and I couldn't put my finger on it. This is an old house with no later additions so the basement should run the entire length of the house."

"It doesn't?"

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "It ends just beyond the living room."

"Why would the Hanson's build a secret room?" Reid wondered.

"To hide whatever they didn't want people to know about," Dave said.

"But how do you get in?" JJ asked. "I don't see any signs of a concealed door."

"My guess is we have to enter from the dining room or kitchen."

"Then lets go take a look," Dave said.

They hurried back upstairs, the worry that Emily may not have a lot of time left spurning them on. Soon the sound of knocking on the walls echoed through the house. Derek made a beeline for the kitchen and stood in the middle of it studying the layout. If he recalled correctly, a lot of old farmhouses had a set of back stairs.

"Now where would I be?" he mumbled, scanning the room. His eyes fell on the pantry. He stepped inside and looked around.

"What is it?" Reid asked in curiosity, pausing just outside the door.

"This is a good size pantry," Derek observed and started tugging on the shelves.

One swung open on well-oiled hinges to reveal an iron spiral staircase. Drawing his gun, Derek cautiously stepped up to the edge and peered up and down the shaft. Behind him, Reid called out to the others, informing them of the find. They crowded in the doorway gazing at the stairs in amazement.

"Well I'll be damned," Dave breathed.

Derek shined the light on his gun into the shaft. "It also goes up and I wouldn't be surprised if it ended in Martha Hanson's bedroom or very close to it."

"Sucker bet."

"Lets go," Hotch said with a grim look and stepped onto the first riser. The rest followed in single file.

They tried to descend as quietly as possible, but the metal of the staircase made it virtually impossible. Every step echoed ominously off the walls. By the time they reached the bottom, they wouldn't have been surprised that their UnSub knew they were coming. At the bottom they found a single door with an open padlock dangling from it.

JJ whispered to Reid. "Do you think this is where they locked up their victims until they were ready to torture them?"

The young genius shook his head. "I don't believe so. They would have initially brought Emily here after the attack, not tie her up in a corner of the basement."

She nodded in agreement. "Then what were they keeping locked up?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

Derek pressed an ear to the door, listening hard. "I hear one voice. Definitely male."

"Can you hear what he is saying?" Hotch asked.

He gave a quick shake of his head. "No, but he sounds agitated. "He moved his hand to the doorknob and tested it. "It's unlocked."

Everyone nodded, tightened their grips on their weapons and surged through the opening when Derek flung the door open.

"FBI!" they yelled, storming the room.

The UnSub, his back to them, jumped in fear and spun around revealing their missing agent. With his arm wrapped around her throat, he backed up to the wall while waving the gun around in his other hand.

"Go away! She's mine!" he shouted with an impatient stomp of his foot. "You can't have her."

Though their eyes and guns were trained on the UnSub and his hostage, the team was still able to profile the room and its occupants. Whatever they could learn in the first crucial minutes would aid in talking him down and getting him to release Emily. The walls of the small room were cinder block, unpainted and rough. Scattered over their surface were drawings that looked like a child did them. It was sparsely furnished with a bed, nightstand, dresser and a lamp.

Their UnSub was in his late thirties to early forties with short-cropped premature gray hair. His clothes were clean and the plaid shirt, buttoned up to the collar, was tucked into his dark blue jeans. But there was something odd about him, something off about his voice and overall demeanor. What kind of UnSub stomps his foot?

"I don't think we can do that," Dave spoke calmly, wanting to keep the situation from escalating further.

"You have to. You have to go. This is my room. She's mine. Not yours," he protested.

He pulled Emily tighter to his chest causing her to groan in pain. With her shoulder throbbing and barely being able to breath, she was on the verge of passing out. With her free hand she ineffectively batted at the arm around her neck.

"Why don't you tell us your name?" JJ tried, picking up on a childlike quality in him. "Emily's our friend, we can't leave her with you if we don't even know your name."

His eyes turned to her, lowering the gun. "Anthony. What's yours?"

"Hi, Anthony. My friends call me JJ," she responded with a smile, taking a small step forward while holstering her weapon, testing the waters.

"Am I your friend?" he asked.

Nodding, she said, "I think we can be. Just like Emily and I are friends." The team picked up on what was happening and were happy to let this play out, guns trained and ready if necessary.

"That makes Emily my friend too." He tightened his hold on the injured agent, making her let out a low moan of pain. "Momma said I could have her. I just got to be real careful with her."

JJ took another step forward, holding up her hands. "Why do you have to be careful?"

"I played with the last one too hard and broke her."

"You did?" she asked. "How did you play with her?" She dreaded knowing the full extent of the answer.

Anthony began telling them how he played with his new friends. They had all seen the aftermath of his playing and now the whole picture was being painted before them in graphic detail. They couldn't be sure what exactly was wrong with him, but there was some kind of developmental delay there. And they could also see that the more he talked, the more he began acting on it, squeezing Emily a little too hard.

"Momma told me that is not the way to play with my toys. You got to be gentle so they last longer." He had an excited, far distant look on his face.

"Hey, Anthony," JJ pulled his attention back to her. "You're holding on to Emily too tight. Why don't you let Emily go and you can tell me more about you so we can be real friends?"

He looked at Emily and shook his head. "She's mine," he repeated stubbornly and then abruptly changed the subject. "Momma's broken," he said sadly. "I found her outside. She looked cold so I put her in bed, but she hasn't woke up yet."

JJ looked helplessly at the team. Every one of them knew that confirming his mother's death would only lead to trouble. No one wanted to take that risk. The rest of the team, not wanting to step in and break the comradely that they had going unless it was necessary, urged her on with nods, silently telling JJ she could handle it.

She took a deep breath. "That was nice of you…to put her in bed if you thought she was cold. It will warm her up."

Anthony nodded enthusiastically. "Me too. I hope she wakes up soon cause I'm real hungry. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it wasn't really very good. Momma makes them much better."

The blonde liaison glanced at her friend and could see her struggles were growing weaker. She gave him an encouraging smile. "You know…Emily's real tired too. Maybe if you let her rest for a little while, I can try to make you a peanut butter sandwich to tide you over until your Momma can. What do you say, Anthony?"

He thought it over before nodding. "Okay." He started to ease his hold on Emily when his eyes suddenly narrowed when he noticed the rest of the team. "What about them?" he asked suspiciously, pointing the gun, that had been at his side a moment ago, at them.

Everyone held their breaths, hoping that he didn't accidentally pull the trigger. Odds were he didn't know the gun was real and that it was loaded.

"Don't worry about them," she said quickly, hoping they would read the tone in her voice and know they needed to back off. Anthony didn't want to hurt Emily and she had a way to get him to release her peacefully. "They're going to step out and give us some room. Okay? Just let Emily relax and we can go. Just the two of us."

The team got the hint and slowly backed out of the room, never taking their eyes off Anthony and his hostage. Once she was sure they were gone, at least, hiding out of sight on the other side of the door, she turned and gave him an encouraging smile. At this moment she never felt so alone.

"They're gone now, Anthony," she said. "We can go and get something to just like I promised. But first you have to let Emily go. We can't go anywhere until you do that."

"Okay," Anthony agreed.

Instead of setting Emily down on the bed, Anthony just dropped her where he stood. Emily's legs immediately buckled and she fell heavily on her bad shoulder, her head bouncing painfully off the cement floor. JJ wanted to rush over to her friend's side, but there was still the matter of the loaded gun in his hand. She could only hope Emily hadn't suffered another concussion in the fall.

"I see you have a toy in your hand, Anthony. Don't you think you should leave it here while we go eat?"

"I don't want to. It's mine," he declared with a stubborn set to his jaw.

"Does your Momma allow you to have a toy at the table when you eat?"

He dug the toe of his shoe into the floor. "No," he said in a small voice.

"So, leave it here with Emily and we can come back for it later."

Anthony nodded and set the gun down amidst the other toys on the dresser. When he moved safely away from the weapon, JJ gestured to the door. "Do you like smooth or crunchy peanut butter?" she asked.

"Crunchy," he said excitedly, failing to notice that she had fallen out step with him. "And grape jelly. I don't like straw—"

He never got to finish his sentence. The moment he stepped over the threshold, Hotch and Derek tackled him. The three went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Anthony howled in pain and anger as he thrashed about trying to break free. Several times he almost succeeded, he was stronger than they had thought. But with Dave's help they were able to subdue him and cuff him. His cries turned to calls for his mother to help him.

JJ spun on her heels and rushed back to her friend's side, Reid right behind her. Emily lay coughing and moaning on the floor, clutching at her shoulder. As she knelt down, the blonde was about how pale she looked.

"Let's get her sitting up," JJ suggested.

Reid nodded and between them, they got her upright and propped her against the wall. Suddenly everything became too much for Emily. All she was feeling, all that she had been through; it was like everything had joined forces to attack her all at once, and her body didn't react well to it. Maybe it was the concussion or maybe it was the overwhelmed feeling, but her friends barely had time to react to anything before she was leaning forward, heaving what little remained in her stomach.

"You okay, Em?" JJ asked, helping her to lean back.

Emily closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. She wet her dry lips before doing a careful nod. "Yeah…I think so." She was too tired and in pain to care that she had just thrown up in front of her friends, not remembering she had done it twice in Hotch's presence.

Slowly she opened her eyes, giving them a weak smile. "I'm so ready to go home. This vacation sucks."

JJ chuckled at her attempt at humor. "Very soon, Em. Very soon."

Meanwhile Reid reached out to check her shoulder. The second his fingers came into contact with the injured joint, Emily hissed in pain and shot him a dirty look. "Don't touch it," she said through clenched teeth.

"I have to," he said apologetically. "I need to make sure it wasn't dislocated again with all the rough handling."

"Okay," she agreed, biting her lip so she wouldn't cry out.

Reid efficiently and gently ran his hand over her shoulder and then sat back on his haunches with a grin. "Good news. It hasn't been dislocated. More likely it was wrenched when Anthony grabbed you."

Emily coughed. "Still hurts like a son of bitch."

JJ patted her knee in sympathy. "I bet it does. Let's get you back upstairs and I'll get you a couple of Tylenol. The couch is a heck of a lot more comfortable than this floor."

"Upstairs?" Emily questioned with a puzzled frown. "How do I keep ending up in the basement?"

"Anthony keeps dragging you down here," JJ said. "You don't remember that?"

Emily slowly shook her head and instantly regretted it. "No. I must have passed out at some point."

"Probably," Reid agreed.

He moved to her good side, slung her arm over his shoulders and between the two of them, they got Emily on her feet without throwing up. With her stumbling between the two, they slowly made their way out of the room. On the other side of the door an odd sight greeted them. Hotch and Derek were sitting on top of Anthony and Dave was towering over them with his hands on his hips.

As soon as Anthony saw JJ with Emily, he began to squirm beneath them. "JJ!" he cried. "Please get them off me. I don't like this. They're hurting me."

JJ ignored his pleading and kept her focus on Emily. The pain he was in paled in comparison to the pain Emily was currently in. The iron staircase was too narrow for three to go up it abreast so JJ lagged behind to let Reid and Emily go first. She was hot on their heels, keeping one hand on the brunette's back to steady her. Just like Hotch, Reid told Emily when to step to help her negotiate the stairs. Soon they disappeared from sight.

Anthony continued to beg JJ to come back and help him. He promised over and over to be a good boy as the men used a second pair of handcuffs to secure him to the rail of the stairs.

As they stared down at their sobbing prisoner, Dave said, "The profile was right. We just had the wrong son.


	13. Chapter 13

_Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers. Well folks, we are reaching the end of the story. Only one chapter left after this. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

Emily swung her feet over the side of the hospital bed and sat there waiting for the room to stop tilting. Most of the symptoms of her severe concussion had faded: the confusion, the blurred vision and the nausea. Only the headache and the vertigo remained, the later the main reason she was still in the hospital. The doctor refused to release her until he was certain she wouldn't fall on her face every time she stood up. Idly she swung her feet back and forth and thought of what had happen after they had rescued her.

 _Back upstairs, JJ and Reid got Emily situated on the couch. While he fetched a glass of water and a couple of Tylenols, JJ tucked a blanket around her legs and then wrapped another one around her shoulders for Emily had started to shake uncontrollably as the effects of the adrenaline rush wore off. Worried that she might get sick again, JJ shouted to Reid to bring along a pot. He returned with all three in hand. Emily downed the pills without complaint and polished off the rest of the water before resting her head on the back of the couch._

" _Better?" JJ asked, patting her on the knee._

" _Yeah. I'm better."_

 _A few minutes later Dave, Derek and Hotch joined them in the living room. The Unit Chief pulled a chair closer to the couch. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands._

" _Prentiss, are you feeling up to telling up what happened?"_

 _She gave his a weak nod. I can try."_

* * *

 _The attack happened so fast that Emily didn't have time to react. The large shape hurtled out of nowhere and slammed into JJ as she was turning around and she went down without a sound, the gun skittering from her limp hand. Emily's eyes followed its trajectory before turning them back to Anthony looming over the unconscious blonde. Their eyes met and his face broke into a wide, toothy grin._

 _He pointed at her. "Now we can play!"_

 _Something in his mannerisms set off the bells in her head, but she didn't have time to puzzle it out. Her friend was hurt and she had to protect her even if she wasn't in the best of shape to do it. Emily mentally calculated the distance between her and the Glock and thought she could reach it before he would. It world hurt like hell to do it, but she had to risk it._

" _I don't think so," Emily retorted and launched herself off the couch._

 _A wave of dizziness washed over her, but Emily ignored it, stretching her hand for the gun. She twisted her body so that she would land on her good side. The impact with the hardwood floor still sent nauseating pain coursing through her body. It took all of her will power not to throw up._

 _Anthony also lunged forward, not for the gun as Emily had thought he would, but for her. His considerable bulk landed squarely on top of her, driving her hard into the floor and stopping her just short of the gun. Emily's breath left her in a loud whoosh, leaving her unable to call for help from the team. The only sound she could manage was a painful wheeze as she fought to breathe._

 _Laughing at, what he thought the funny sounds she was making, Anthony scrambled off her. He scooped up the Glock, admired the prettiness of it and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. Then he reached down to wrap a large hand around her bad arm and hauled her to her feet. If Emily had been capable of breathing, she would have screamed from the intense pain. It felt like he was yanking her arm out of its socket._

 _Emily's best guess was that she had passed out at that point. She had no memory of Anthony dragging her down to the hidden room and what had happened immediately afterwards. Her first true memory were of Anthony's arm around her neck, choking her while he waved the gun around and the team bursting through the door, ready to plug him full of holes._

* * *

Later, Emily had found herself alone for the first time in days as everyone was outside messing around with the snow, trying to get them out of there. No one had wanted out more than her, even if it was just to go to a hospital. The house…the house just made her think and remember.

 _"Hey," Dave said in greeting, pulling her attention._

 _Emily opened her eyes, giving him a tired smile. "Hey."_

 _He gestured to the empty space on the couch. "Mind if I sit down?"_

" _Knock yourself out."_

" _Bad joke," he groaned as he sat down and rested an ankle on his knee. "Too much of that happening around here lately."_

 _She chuckled weakly. "Sorry."_

" _How are you feeling?"_

" _I'm doing all right. I've had better days."_

" _No doubt," he agreed with a chuckle of his own._

" _So why aren't you outside shoveling snow with everyone else?" Emily asked in curiosity._

" _Well, for one, someone has to stay with you." He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "And two, I exercised my seniority on the team and in the FBI."_

" _And you didn't want to keel over from a heart attack because you over exerted yourself," she teased with a straight face._

" _There's that too," he conceded with a lopsided grin. "Anyway Sheriff Holmes and the calvary will soon be here so I thought I would help you get ready to fly the coop."_

" _Makes sense. You don't want me to get frostbite on top of the concussion and dislocated shoulder."_

" _Nope. I'll get your coat."_

 _Dave went to get up, but Emily's hand on his arm stopped him. He turned back to her with a puzzled look. What he saw nearly broke his heart. Her dark brown eyes were filled with sadness and guilt._

" _Deputy Bennett is dead, isn't he?" Emily asked for confirmation even though deep down she knew the truth._

 _He wasn't going to lie to her. "Yes, he is. You remember?"_

 _Emily looked away and started picking at the loose threads on the makeshift sling. "I never really forgot it. I just blocked it out. It was easier to pretend it didn't happen than admit I couldn't do anything to prevent it."_

 _Derek was right. She was going to blame herself for his death. "You couldn't."_

 _She went on like she hadn't heard him. "I don't remember anything after the attack except for his screaming. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. I could hear his pain swirling around me, burrowing under my skin to become a part of me."_

" _I can't even begin to imagine what you had to endure."_

" _It was horrible," Emily admitted, glancing briefly up at Dave. "I tried to drown it out with pain by driving my injured shoulder into the wall."_

 _Dave nodded in understanding. "That's what I thought you were doing last night," deciding to bring up her late night escapade._

" _Last night?"_

" _Yes. I found you banging your shoulder into the newel post," he gently told her._

" _Oh," Emily said softly, reaching up to rub her shoulder as the redness of embarrassment crept up her neck to her cheeks. "It wasn't a dream?"_

" _I'm afraid not."_

" _And did I beg you to make it stop?" A quick glance at his face told Emily everything she needed to know. "I'm so sorry I asked that of you, Rossi. I'm not normally that way. It was uncharacteristic of me."_

 _Dave waved off her apology. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Pren…Emily. You're suffering from a bad concussion. It scrambled your brain pretty good and it can make you do things that are quite unlike you."_

" _Still—"_

" _Still nothing. I also think you were caught up in a type of flashback. Your subconscious was trying to tell you that it was time to stop blocking it out."_

" _It could have told me in a less painful way," Emily said with a half-hearted chuckle._

" _Agreed. Now let's get you all bundled up."_

 _Again she stopped him. "Thank you."_

" _You're welcome," he said with a smile and a nod._

 _He retrieved her wool coat and helped her slip her arm into the sleeve. Then he draped the material over her injured shoulder and carefully did up the buttons. Emily sat still, wishing she could do it herself, but know it would be too difficult with one hand. When Dave was done, he looked her in the eyes._

" _You good?" he asked._

" _I'm good," she said with a small smile._

* * *

Not long after that, Sheriff Holmes and troops had arrived to take over the scene. While Dave and Hotch had remained behind to coordinate with him, the rest of the team had helped Emily into one of the cleaned off SUV's and had whisked her off to the nearest hospital. And that is where she has been for the past two days.

When the room righted itself, she slid the rest of the way off the bed and shuffled over to the chair by the window. Emily sat down and shifted around trying to find a comfortable position. The brace she was stuck in for her dislocated shoulder was ungainly and it held her left arm in a position that made it look like she was ready to shake hands with everyone. It was also hell to sleep in. How was she going to survive the next three weeks in the rig she had no clue. There had been some tearing of the muscles and one of the tendons that reinforced the shoulder joint, but luckily for Emily the damage was minor and hadn't required surgery. If it had, she would have been sidelined for a good four to six months. Damage that would have required surgery had been prevented because of the quick actions of Hotch and Reid. They had reduced the shoulder, popping it back into place and best of all; they hadn't screwed up doing it.

Thinking about what they did made Emily's thoughts drift to Anthony. He did this to her, and yet, she felt a little compassion for him. There were programs and schools his parents could have enrolled him in. Times were different from when they were growing up when many family doctors recommended that parents dump their mentally challenged kids in a institution and forget all about them. Instead, they chose to keep him locked in the basement, cut off from the world around him, stunting his mental and emotional growth.

Anthony was considered incompetent and would never stand trial for the four murders and the assault of a Federal officer. But he will never be free. He would be spending the rest of his life confined in a mental institution where he'll probably be quite happy once he got used to it. The team and Sheriff Holmes had agreed that the four murders were probably not the only ones, that they had been occurring while the father had been alive. The only difference was that he had been better at hiding the bodies. Come spring, the sheriff intended to search the extensive property with cadaver dogs, confident he would unearth more victims.

Penelope had searched high and low, backward and forward, for any record of his birth, but much to her frustration she came up empty handed. They had the approximate year since Anthony happily told the cops how old he was. The team surmised he had been born at home either delivered by a doctor, a midwife or even Mr. Hanson and the only copy of the birth certificate had gone up in flames in the courthouse fire. As to the attack on her and the deputy, their best guess was that Deputy Bennett had walked in on both of them, and in desperation to preserve their secret, one of them had knocked him out. And when Emily had shown up on the second floor, they knew or Martha Hanson knew, she had to be silenced.

She sighed, no longer wanting to think about that, and turned her attention to the window, absently rubbing her injured shoulder. It was a winter wonderland outside. The blizzard had cleared out and had left in its wake crystal blue skies and a thick blanket of pristine snow covering everything. The bright sun reflected off the fluffy coating forcing Emily to squint against the glare. In the distance she could see children playing. They were building snowmen, making angels or engaged in an energetic snowball fight. While the adults cussed out the snow as they dug out from under it, the kids were having fun, as they should. A smile formed on her lips as she remembered building snow forts with her grandfather.

"What's with the goofy grin?" a teasing voice asked.

Emily turned to see Derek standing at the foot of the hospital bed. She had been so focused on outside that she hadn't heard or seen him enter.

"I was remembering playing in the snow with my Grandfather. He built the best forts," she said fondly.

"Yeah?" he asked, smiling at how her face lit up whenever she talked about him. They must have had a special bond. It was a shame her face didn't do that when she mentioned her mother.

"Uh huh. He also taught me how to make the perfect snowball."

"The Alps?" he guessed.

She nodded and turned her eyes back to the window. "Yes. Up there the snow remains pure white all winter. Not like here in the city where it turns brown after a few days from all the traffic."

"It sounds wonderful." Derek sat on the edge of the bed and nodded at the chair. "So you got over there all by yourself?"

"I did and I didn't fall on my ass once." Emily's eyes twinkled in amusement.

"You go girl," he said with a grin.

He was glad to see that she was doing much better than she was a couple days ago. It would be weeks before she was fully recovered from the concussion, but he was fine with that. All that mattered to him was that she was on the mend.

"Maybe we can take a spin around the floor in a few minutes," he suggested.

"I would like that," she said with a small smile.

Suddenly Emily sobered and she looked at him with sad eyes. "When did they have Deputy Bennett's funeral?"

"Actually it's scheduled for later this afternoon. I was planning on attending. I figured someone from the team should go."

"Take me with you."

Derek frowned at the request. "Emily, I don't think it's a good idea. You're still a bit unsteady on your feet."

"That doesn't matter. I just need to go," she insisted.

One look at her eyes told him all he needed to know. He shifted the edge of the bed, his clasped hands resting in his lap. "Emily, Bennett's death is not your fault," he said softly.

"Yes, it is," she whispered and turned away from his gaze. "I'm the experienced field agent and he was a rookie deputy. I should never have allowed him to go upstairs by himself. I should have insisted that we stay together."

"There was no reason for that," he consoled. "Bennett personally knew them and you were out there to conduct an interview. We had no idea Martha Hanson and her mentally challenged son that no one knew about were our UnSubs."

Emily continued on like she hadn't heard him. "And I got sloppy clearing the upstairs. If I had been more cautious, he wouldn't have gotten the jump on me and knocked me down the stairs."

Derek knew that wasn't true. When she had first described what had happened, she had been on high alert the entire time until the croquet mallet had taken her down. At no time had she rushed blindly up the stairs. Right now Emily was too guilt ridden to realize she had done everything she could.

"Prentiss, look at me," he said and waited for her eyes to slowly met his. "This wasn't your fault. You did your best. You know as well as I do that sometimes our best is still not enough and the UnSub gets the upper hand. It's one of the hazards of the job."

She nodded wordlessly. What he was trying to convince her of was true, but she wasn't ready to accept it yet. What she needed was some form of closure.

"Derek, please," Emily pleaded. "Talk to the doctor. It will be just for a couple of hours and you'll bring me right back."

"Emily—" he hesitated.

"I need to do this."

He gazed into her dark brown eyes and saw the pain, the guilt and a glint of determination. He sighed in resignation. "Fine," he said at last. "I'll talk to him, but I can't guarantee he'll agree."

"I know."

"And you'll promise that you won't try to sneak out if he says no?" he asked, giving her a pointed look.

"I promise," she honestly vowed.

"Good. I'll be right back." He got up and headed to the door to go and find her doctor, shaking his head slightly at how he could never say no to her.

"Derek?" Emily called out to him. He stopped and turned back to her. "Thank you."

He smiled. "Always."

* * *

 _See you next week for the conclusion :-D. Until then._


	14. Chapter 14

_Here is it, folks. The final chapter._

* * *

It took Derek awhile to track down her doctor and talk to him. While he was gone, Emily couldn't do anything but fidget. Multiple thoughts constantly ran through her head, but the one she kept returning to what she was going to do if the doctor said no. She had to go to the funeral. It was something she needed to do. Several times she came up with a plan to sneak out and each time she remembered that she had promised that she wouldn't do that. And each time, Emily wished she hadn't because she firmly believed that once you given your word, you kept it.

When Derek finally returned his face was unreadable. Emily thought her hopes were about to be dashed against the rocks and sink below the surface, never to be seen again.

"Did you find him?" she asked with resignation echoing in her voice.

"I did."

"And?"

"He said you could go." Derek quickly held up his hand to stop her when he saw her eyes light up in hope. "But there are two conditions."

Emily's relief changed to wariness. "What are they?"

"I have to stick to you like glue."

"That's what I expected you to do." The first one wasn't too bad, but she had a gut feeling she wasn't going to like the other one. "And the second one?"

"He wants you to use a wheelchair."

And she didn't. "No way. I'm quite capable of walking," Emily protested.

"Without the room spinning?"

"Well…" she hedged. "I don't get nauseous anymore."

"Good for you. It's the wheelchair or nothing. You're choice." Derek arched an eyebrow as he waited for her answer.

Emily glared at him, wanting to wipe that smug look off his face. Derek knew he had her over a barrel. If she wanted to attend the funeral, she would have to use that infernal contraption.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll take the chair."

Derek nodded at her decision, knowing if he said something smart alecky she would have taken it the wrong way. They made arrangements for him to return with her go bag because Emily refused to set foot outside in a hospital gown nor did she want to wear the dead woman's blouse again. Back at the murder house she didn't have much of choice.

When Derek returned with her bag, the nurse helped Emily get dressed and then adjusted the brace so her bad arm rested across her stomach. That way they could button her coat over it instead of trying to get the injured limb in the sleeve without accidentally wrenching the shoulder. Her outdoor attire was topped off with a scarf wrapped around her neck and tucked into her coat, a glove on her good hand and a knit cap to keep her head warm and to cover the bandage on her forehead. The nurse obviously didn't want her patient to catch a cold.

"Looks like someone is ready to go," Derek commented, entering her hospital room with the wheelchair.

"Do I really need that?" Emily asked, eyeballing the chair with distaste.

"Part of the deal, Partner."

Emily sighed. "Fine. But don't expect me to like it."

"Never in a million years," he agreed with a chuckle. "Now do you need any help?"

The dirty look she shot him told him that she didn't. Holding the wheelchair steady he watched her slowly get off the bed and settle grudgingly into the chair. With her back to him, Derek didn't see her close her eyes to fight off the wave of dizziness. There was no way in hell that she was going to admit the wheelchair might actually be a good idea. Damn that doctor for his foresight.

"Ready?" Derek asked.

"Ready."

With a grin he wheeled her through the door and out to the car.

* * *

Derek figured the drive to the cemetery would be a quiet one and it was for the most of it. Emily stared out the window blind to the scenery flashing by, lost in whatever thoughts were swirling about in her head. Her right leg was jiggling from the nervous energy coursing through her while she absently rubbed her bad shoulder. When they had pulled away from the hospital, he had tried to engage her in conversation. But when he got non-committal shrugs and distracted one-word answers, Derek decided to leave Emily in peace. So he was very much surprised when she spoke up.

"I've been meaning to ask, but I kept losing my train of thought. Whatever happened to your girlfriend?"

He took his eyes briefly off the road to look at her, his eyebrows bunching up into a confused frown. "What girlfriend?"

"Monster."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Damn cat," he muttered.

She chuckled. Derek's dislike for cats was something she was well familiar with. Sergio knew that and always went out of his way to toy with him. "Did the Sheriff have animal control pick her up?"

"No. The beast is in my hotel room. She's probably destroying the drapes as we speak," he sighed.

"Why didn't you lock her in the bathroom? There's not much in there for her to damage."

"I did. But that cat raised such a ruckus I couldn't sleep and I doubt the guests on either side of me did either."

"You poor boy," Emily said without a drop of sympathy. "But could we back up a little bit? How did you end up with Monster?"

"Garcia," he said with a halfhearted chuckle. "When she learned the cat was still out there apparently fending for herself, she asked me to go back out there and get her."

"Don't you mean she made you?"

"Whatever. That damn cat had me chasing her all over that damn house for four hours before she let me catch her," he huffed.

Emily laughed at the image that had popped into her head of Derek tiptoeing around with an oversized butterfly net and the cat darting between his legs. Derek glowered at her, but Emily's laughter was infectious and he joined in.

"What are you supposed to do with her?" she asked when their laughter had died down.

"I'm under strict orders to bring her home with us. Garcia intends on finding her a good home."

"Good luck in convincing Hotch to let Monster on the jet."

"Yeah," he agreed with a snort.

Emily's good mood vanished when they drove through the gates of the cemetery and was replaced by nervousness and guilt. It got worse as they weaved their way through the maze of lanes and by the time they pulled up behind the last car in line, Emily was almost bouncing out of her seat. Derek hopped out and went to the back of the SUV to get the wheelchair.

"I don't need that," Emily protested again when he open the passenger door.

"Doctor's orders," Derek reminded her firmly. "Either you use it or I will take you right back to the hospital."

"Fine," she grumbled as she let him help her out of the car and into the wheelchair. Then Derek produced a blanket and tucked it in around her legs, prompting her to complain. "For god's sake, Morgan. I'm not an invalid."

"You are today," he shot back with his patented cocky grin.

Taking a hold of the handles, Derek maneuvered the wheelchair along the plowed drive down to the wide path that had been cut through the snow to the gravesite. The snow had been packed down by the many boot clad feet that had trod upon it, but it was still rough going for the wheelchair.

"They should design these things with snow tires," Derek muttered at some point, but Emily didn't hear him. Her eyes were glued to the large gathering huddled around the flag draped casket.

Though it was a cold and blustery day, the turnout for Deputy Bennett's funeral was good. Townspeople, his fellow officers and law enforcement from the neighboring cities and towns, all had showed up to pay their heartfelt respect for the fallen officer.

A young man I should have done a better job in protecting, Emily sadly thought as she gestured to Derek to stop. "This is fine."

"You sure, Emily? I can get you closer," he offered.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Right here is good." They were close enough to hear everything clearly. She felt like an outsider and didn't want to intrude on the town and family's grief.

"Okay," Derek agreed, stopping and setting the brakes on the wheelchair. Then he stood behind her with a comforting hand resting on her shoulder.

The funeral was nice as funerals go. The eulogies given by the priest and the sister were heartfelt and touching, evoking tears and soft chuckles at the same time. But the hardest part for anyone involved the folding of the flag and its presentation to the grieving mother. Then the brisk air of winter was filled with the mournful tones of taps.

"I'm sorry, Deputy," Emily whispered softly, "that I didn't do a better job in protecting you. I hope you can one day forgive me. I doubt I ever forgive myself. May you rest in peace." She said a silent prayer for him and did the sign of the cross.

When the last notes had faded into the crisp blue sky, the mourners started to disperse, heading back to their cars. Some were heading for home or back to work while the family and close friends would gather at the mother's house for food and reminiscing.

Emily reached up to touch Derek's hand. "I'm ready to go now."

He looked down at her. "Are you sure? I thought you might want to pay your condolences to the family."

She squirmed in the wheelchair. As much as she wanted to, she wasn't ready to face them. She was afraid of what they would say to her since she was the one responsible for getting their loved one killed.

"No. I'm good."

"Okay," Derek agreed. He unlocked the brakes, turned the wheelchair around and head back to where the SUV was parked. As he pushed, he wondered if Emily had gotten the closure she desperately wanted.

* * *

Derek was about to help Emily into the car when the woman who had delivered one of the eulogies approached them.

"Hi," she said with a tentative smile. "I don't think we have ever met. I'm Alicia, Archie's sister."

Emily, suddenly overwhelmed with the prospect of talking with a member of the Deputy's family while she felt some responsibility for his death, shied away and dropped her eyes to the blanket spread over her legs. She focused on worrying a loose thread, leaving Derek to do all the talking.

"I'm Derek," he said, holding out a hand to shake. "This is Emily."

She shook his hand. "How do you know my brother?"

"Uh…we worked on a case with him."

"You're not from around here," she stated with a slight frown. "I know all the local law enforcement."

"No, we're not local," Derek confirmed.

"Oh. You must be with the FBI. He mentioned that you were coming to help out."

Derek nodded while Emily remained silent. "We flew in a little over a week ago."

"Arch was so excited to get a chance to work you guys. Not the circumstances, obviously, but it's not like the chance comes all the time to these parts." Alicia smiled, remembering the look on her brother's face when he had told her.

"He was a great cop. I'm sorry for your loss," Derek said, squeezing Emily's shoulder.

"I'm sorry too," Emily said, briefly looking up. "He didn't deserve what happened to him."

"Thank you."

Alicia took a closer look at the woman sitting in the wheelchair, noting the white bandage peeking out from under the knit cap and the empty left coat sleeve. "You're the agent who was injured in the attack that killed my brother."

"Yes," she admitted and braced herself for the inevitable confrontation about why she survived and her brother didn't. Unfortunately Emily didn't have an answer to it because she was still trying to figure it out.

"How are you doing?" Alicia asked.

Emily blinked in surprise. That was the last question she had been expecting, a concern about her health. "I'm…I'm healing."

"I'm glad."

Alicia's kindness made Emily's guilt worse. This woman and her family should hate me, she thought as she fidgeted in the wheelchair. "I should have done more to protect your brother," she blurted.

The sister frowned in confusion. "You were ambushed if I remember correctly."

"Yes, but I shouldn't have let us split up."

"Arch was well aware of the dangers when he joined the force."

"I'm sure he did, but I was still the more experienced officer," Emily protested.

Alicia glanced back at the grave where the cemetery workers were lowering the casket into the ground. She wiped away a tear before turning back to the guilt-ridden agent.

"Agent…Emily, I knew my brother very well. I know for a fact that he wouldn't want you kicking yourself over something you had no control of. It wasn't your fault. He would be happy that you hadn't died with him."

Emily gave her a sad smile. "I wish I could believe that, but thank you for saying it either way."

"I hope you do one day. I really do," Alicia said sincerely. "Well, I have to get going. It was a pleasure to meet both of you."

"Same here," Derek said.

Emily nodded in agreement and added, "Again I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she said and headed for the limo that was waiting.

The two friends remained silent as he helped her into the car and buckle her in. Before putting it into gear, he glanced over at her. "Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked softly.

Emily sighed and turned to face the window. "I don't know, Derek. I might have. I'll just have to see."

"Fair enough. If you need to talk some more, you know where to find me."

A smile crept across her face. "I do. In your hotel room with a love struck cat and tattered drapes."

* * *

The next two days passed quickly for Emily. The team spent their waking hours with her like they had back at the house. Hotch was the only exception. He ended up splitting his time between her hospital room and the Sheriff's office helping to tie up loose ends. For Emily's benefit and the victims, he wanted to make sure the case against Anthony was rock solid..

The team had been waiting in her room when Derek and Emily had returned from the funeral. They all looked at her in concern as JJ asked how it went and Emily had given her stock answer that it went fine. Their eyes then went to Derek who could only give them a helpless shrug. Then the nurse had shown up and had chased them out so that she could verify her patient hadn't contracted pneumonia in the short, few hours she had spent outside. When they were let back in, Emily was tucked into bed with her pajamas on instead of the hospital gown. From there and into the next day, they kept the conversation off the case, distracting her with humorous stories, movies on the TV and uncountable hands of gin rummy.

Now she was all bundled up, sitting in a wheelchair just inside the entrance of the hospital waiting for whoever was supposed to be picking her up to arrive. A black SUV pulled out outside the automatic door and, much to Emily's surprise, Hotch popped out and hurried around to the passenger door. He held it open while she climbed in, wisely not offering to lend her hand since he knew she would refuse.

When they were on their way to the hotel, Emily turned to him with an amused smile. "So were you the lucky one and drew the short straw to pick me up?"

"Actually I was the only one available. Morgan was trying to corral the cat with JJ's help, Reid was offering useless advice from the doorway and Rossi got disgusted by the whole thing and went to the hotel bar."

Emily laughed. "I would have loved to have seen that."

"It was quite humorous," Hotch agreed with a small smile. It was good to see her acting more like herself.

Her mood instantly sobered. "But I have a feeling there is another reason why you wanted to be the one to pick me up."

He glanced briefly at her. "There is."

"You want to know where my head is."

"Yes."

"Besides sitting squarely on my shoulders?" she joked with a halfhearted laugh.

"Besides that."

Emily turned her gaze to the scenery whizzing past her window and let out a slow, deep sigh. "I'm always going to feel guilty about Deputy Bennett's death. It's that whole survivors guilt thing, but I'm not going to dwell on it for the rest of my life. It's in the past."

"And there's nothing you can do now to change it," Hotch added.

"No, there isn't, but…"

"But what?" he prompted.

She sighed again and rubbed her injured shoulder. "I still think there was something more I could have done."

Hotch kept his eyes on the road. "Like what?"

Emily thought about it for a few minutes before shrugging her good shoulder. "I don't know," she confessed.

"That's because there wasn't anything you could have done," he said firmly and softly. "Splitting up was the right call. Bennett was familiar with the Hanson's having grown up here. You deferred to his expertise and I would have done the same thing. We never considered Martha Hanson a suspect. We thought she was a potential witness and nothing more."

"I guess."

"And you were blitzed. It's hard to fight what you didn't see coming. By the time you realized what had happened, you were already falling down the stairs."

She turned back to him. "You're right, Hotch. Morgan pretty much told me the same thing."

"Sound advice if I do say so myself."

"Heh," she said with half a chuckle. "It's just going to take a little more time for it to sink in."

"I understand," he said with a nod. They rode in silence for several miles before he spoke up. "Bennett's death is not your fault, Emily."

"I know that." Anger crept into her voice. "The blame falls squarely on the shoulders of Anthony's parents. They made him into the killer he is today by encouraging him. They had many options available to them. There are special schools they could have enrolled him in. He would have gotten an education, learned what he was capable of doing and who knows, he could have possibly gotten a job that he would have been proud of. But he'll never know. Anthony is going to spend the rest of his life in a mental institution because his parents didn't want the stigma of having a mentally challenged son attached to him."

"Sounds like you have some sympathy for Anthony," Hotch noted.

"Some," she admitted. "I don't think he really understood what he was doing was wrong. He thought what he was doing was playing."

"I agree. He doesn't understand the concept of death. He said his father was broken and had to go away and that is mother was still sleeping."

"It's a shame," she said with a sad shake of her head.

"It is."

Emily stared out the windows for a few minutes. "So did I pass? Is my head on straight for your liking?"

"So far," Hotch said with a small smile. "I'm here if you feel the need to talk further."

"Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it." She really did, but she knew she would never take him up on his offer. She'll work through this in her own way like she always did.

Hotch also knew she wouldn't. He and Emily were alike in that way. Both preferred to work through their problems alone and it private. He simply nodded and changed the subject to something lighter.

"Morgan said after having a couple of days of sun and warmer temperatures the snow is perfect for packing."

"Yeah?" she asked distractedly.

"He was wondering if you were feeling up to it if you wanted to build the snowman he promised to help you with."

Emily turned to him with a confused frown wrinkling her brow. "Where the heck did he get the idea I wanted to build a snowman?"

"From you."

"From me? When did I say that?"

"When you two were talking not long after your accident. You saw that it was snowing outside and asked if you could go build a snowman," Hotch explained with a soft chuckle.

"I did? I don't remember that."

"You were rather out of it."

"Very true. A snowman, you say?" she mused.

"Yes." He saw the contemplative look on her face. "Are you thinking of doing it?"

Surprisingly it sounded like fun. Emily couldn't remember the last time she had built a snowman. Geez, it must have been back in her teen years. They wouldn't be flying home until later in the day so it might be a good way to pass the time. It would beat sitting around in the hotel with everyone watching her until it was time to leave. She had enough of that over the past week at the house and hospital. Even though it was cold out, a couple of hours spent in the fresh air would do her a world of good.

"Well, I can't build it with this shoulder, but I can supervise. Might as well put to work those muscles Morgan is so fond of flexing by having him build a big snowman." Emily paused and then grinned. "Or a cat snowman."

Hotch chuckled. "You do know you have a wicked sense of humor?"

"So I've been told over the years," she said as they pulled into the hotel's parking lot.

After the week she had, Emily was actually looking forward to a couple of hours of mindless fun. Then they would return home to DC where Penelope would engulf her in a bone crushing hug followed by being reamed up one side and down the other for getting hurt again. There would be another painful hug and then she would be plied with her favorite cupcakes. Though on the outside she would squirm from all the attention and insist that she was fine, on the inside Emily wouldn't want it any other way.

* * *

 _And that is a wrap. Thank you to all who have read this story from start to finish. Your patronage is much appreciated. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Hope to see you all after the new year with a new story. Until then._


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